


Between Light and Darkness

by Wholesomereader



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Art School, BAMF Logan, BAMF Patton, Body Language, Foster Care, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Language, Mind Control, Minor Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Muteness, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonverbal Communication, Overprotective Virgil, Parental Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, Psychological Torture, Rated For Violence, Rivalry, Sign Language, Vigilantism, Villains, Villains to Heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-06-24 01:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15619152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wholesomereader/pseuds/Wholesomereader
Summary: Virgil is undesirable. Which is okay with him, because usually people want him to talk and he doesn't like to talk. He lives in a foster home with his foster mother Dahlia until three men and a toddler turn his life upside down. Now he has to protect, feed, and take care of a child while also learning to control his own powers. Simple, really.Until two teachers and an over dramatic theater student decide to butt themselves into his life, and a villain threatens to destroy everything Virgil cares about. But he can lead the teachers on a wild goose chase, get the theater kid off of his back, and deal with the villain by himself.Hopefully.





	1. Prologue

Nobody wanted Virgil. That was okay, for the most part. To him it made perfect sense, since he… was, well he was  _ himself.  _ He understood that his gangly form and constantly messy hair made him look pitiful, and more often than not that earned him more attention than he cared to have. His eyes were big and dark, but he never looked like he had a doe affect on others. Instead, he heard someone once remark that his eyes made it look like the void was searching for their souls.

 

In a way, they weren’t wrong. Virgil was looking for stability and safety, for the most part. He refused to remember or dwell on the events that made him a part of the fostercare system, and he often refused to talk-at all. 

 

Virgil didn’t like speaking. He didn’t like noise in general, and tried to hide his own noises by moving as silently as possible. Speaking was unnecessary for him. He could convey his answers with a simple shake or nod of his head, or by shrugging. He didn’t need to ask for help, he could do this on his own, thank you very much. 

 

Even at six years old, Virgil understood that he was odd for being so independent. There was nothing wrong with that, at least for him. It meant he could slip by and take care of himself, and attract as little attention as possible. Even when the foster mother, Dahlia smiled at him like he was just a normal kid, and often tried to supply help that the other kids needed. 

 

Dahlia was a ray of sunshine in Virgil’s world. She was the only one who didn’t force him to talk, and would hold a conversation with him without needing a pen and a paper. She was the one who gave him a pair of bulky headphones, used, but in near perfect condition. Of course, she ran a foster home, so Virgil didn’t like to take up much of her time. 

 

For a while, everything was normal. Virgil was slowly learning how to sign with the help of Alex, a kid that was older than him who was hard of hearing. There was a hearing about adopting a girl who was about 15 years old. It was...okay, and normal. Virgil was left alone with his headphones, and he had a few friends. Even if they were older than him. 

 

But then school started, and it all went downhill. A group of kids singled him out, for wearing old clothes that were hand-me-downs, and for having messy hair. The cherry on top? He wouldn’t argue. He would just stare at his desk and take whatever they would throw at him. Alex was two grades above him, and they would rarely see each other in the hallways, if at all most days. Dahlia wasn’t there to support or comfort him all the time. 

 

Virgil wasn’t scared of the dark. The other kids found this out when a storm blew out their lights, causing a couple of the kids to cry and break down. Virgil, however, simply opened the door to let in the emergency lights. The teacher praised him for his smart mind, and he had simply smiled and sat down.

 

An hour passes by before they’re allowed to get their jackets on and wait for someone to pick them up. It was then that the group attacked, the leader grabbing Virgil by the back of his old hoodie. He lets out a small, strangled cry as hands drag him down the hallway, away from the lights and away from any teachers. 

 

He tries to fight against it, scratching wildly at anyone he tries to lay a hand on him once they let go. But all it takes is the click of a door being unlocked for him to lower his guard for a second, and a shove from one of the bullies to find himself surrounded, utterly and completely, by darkness. 

 

It wasn’t scary, at first. There were hits and kicks on the door, but Virgil simply scooted to the corner of the closet. He pulled his knees to his chest, and closes his eyes. He imagines the darkness pooling outside of the door and into the hallway. He imagines it curling around the other kids, their frantic screams and yells as they live through their worst nightmare. 

 

For a minute, there’s silence, but then there’s the terrified screaming of another kid, and then another, and soon it flows into the closet door. Virgil just stares at where he thinks the door is, until it’s flung open and he looks up at a janitor. He gets escorted out, scolded with the rest of the kids for messing in the janitors closet. Virgil just nods along, practically running to Alex. 

 

_ What happened?  _ He signed, and Virgil simply shook his head, and soon they’re returning home. 

 

Of course, that was just the beginning. 

 

* * *

 

Virgil stares up at the polite men in suits, their sunglasses blocking out their eyes, their faces stoic and smooth. One of them is talking to Dahlia, gesturing around the house, as if asking about how she ran the home. She explains, flushing brightly under the attention of all three of them. 

 

One of them, with his hair slicked back with a few grey hairs, turns and stares at Virgil, probably trying to get him to run off so that he stops snooping. Instead, Virgil stares back, squinting slightly. A part of him doesn’t like the look of the men, doesn’t like how one of them has his hand constantly resting on the other opposite side of his hips. 

 

Another part of him wonders who the lucky soul will be to get the attention of these gentlemen. They were obviously well off, considering, and they were being polite to Dahlia. 

 

The man broke off eye contact with Virgil, and asks loud enough for him to hear, “Do you usually let your wards eavesdrop?” He asks casually, as if he’s asking about the weather or one of the other kids. 

 

Dahlia gasps, and does a 180 to face Virgil, her shoulders sinking down from anger. She smiles softly at Virgil and beckons him closer. He glances at the men in the living room and comes forward, just a little bit to be in the light properly. He takes in the presence of the other men, and frowns slightly. 

 

He doesn’t like them. 

 

“This is Virgil,” Dahlia says, gesturing to him. He gives a nod as a greeting, stepping forward to stand by her. The men remind him of a coiled snakes, posed and ready to strike at a moment's notice. “He’s only eight years old, but he’s very intelligent. He’s a good kid,” She tacks on, noticing how the men react to the name. 

 

“Surely he isn’t just eight years old, is he? He looks much older,” One of them comments, and Virgil subtly shifts his glance to the man that’s talking, glaring at him. He’s right in front of them, they could at least address him. The man notices and shifts uncomfortably, clearly not liking how he’s glaring at him. 

 

“He’s rather tall for his age, yes.” Dahlia responds, like a robot. It’s one of the few things anyone who ever looks at him notices first-his height. The second thing, his-

 

“Virgil has quite the look on his face too. Is he always this hostile towards strangers?” One of the other men asks. 

 

_ No, _ he signs,  _ just to those I don’t trust.  _

 

Dahlia sputters, trying to translate into something more polite and agreeable than what he just said. But he crosses his arms and pointed doesn’t look at the men anymore, and waits to be dismissed by Dahlia to go to his shared him. He longs for the company of Alex, who was recently adopted. 

 

But instead of being told to go upstairs, Dahlia puts a gentle hand on his shoulders. “You must understand, as young as he is, he just doesn’t like to use his voice. I know kids his age are quite talkative,” Virgil wrinkles his as she cards a hand through his hair. “But he’s rather quiet, and would rather be left alone than to talk to… well,” She glances at him before letting out a small laugh, one that doesn’t sound like her in the slightest. “Strangers.”

 

“Ma’am, I understand that most kids from his background are hesitant around strangers, but it’s just a few questions in private, if you please.” The one with the salt and pepper hair says, eyeing Virgil up and down. He resists the urge to shudder, the feeling of a thousand ants crawling up his back. 

 

Dahlia hesitates, and Virgil uncrosses his arms.  _ I’ll be fine _ . 

 

With just himself in the room, Virgil takes a seat and stares at the three men. Too fancy suits and too stony faces. 

 

“Virgil, right?” He nods. “Why do you think we’re talking to you, son?” 

 

Virgil frowns. He doesn’t like being called son. He shrugs, looking up at the ceiling. He’s tempted to sign, to see if one of them understands, but he keeps his hands still. He doesn’t want to talk to them, not yet at least.

 

The same man starts again. “We’re with the government, son. You can trust us.” He has to resist the urge to frown even deeper, but he doesn’t give them a sign to let them know he acknowledges them. 

 

“We’re here to help you, son,” He presses, leaning forward and clearly trying to get his attention. “I, myself, have read into your files, and well…” He hesitates, and this is where another man leans in.

 

It’s like they want him to keep this a secret, but he’ll probably write it all down in his journal once this is all over. 

 

“We know what you can do, Virgil.” Another man says softly, and Virgil doesn’t bother to try and place the difference between the three. “You’re already very strong, and at such a young age. We want to help you out, is all.” 

 

A pause. Virgil slowly looks at the man who spoke dead in the eyes. He shakes his head. He crosses his arms. He doesn’t want to talk to them anymore, thanks. Planting his feet firmly against the floor, he stands up, and turns to leave. 

 

But one of them, with the grey hairs, puts a heavy, and firm hand on his shoulder. “Accidents happen, Virgil. We could make it so that you could hone your skills away from people, so that you don’t hurt anyone.” 

 

Virgil sharply turns, forcing the mans hand off of him. He stares him dead in the eyes, and shakes his head. The man thinks for a second, before getting down to eye level with him. “Virgil. Your shadows are dangerous, and if they hurt the other kids-”

 

He doesn’t want to listen to them anymore. 

 

Virgil turns around leaves, Dahlia rushing into the room to do as much damage control as possible. He already knows he could hurt people. He already has. But he won’t, not with them. Not when Dahlia is involved, or any of the other foster kids living with him. 

 

He goes up to his room, ignoring the looks and the questions of the other kids as he falls face first in bed, holding a pillow tightly. He wouldn’t hurt them. Not on purpose. Never on purpose. He would fight against it, as much as he could. Virgil won’t hurt anyone. 

 

But his mind wonders to that stormy day at school, and a sinking feeling in his stomach forms, making him wince. But that’s different. He didn’t actually want to hurt any of those kids, and they had left him alone aftwards. They weren’t physically hurt. 

 

As he cycles through the excuses, his eyelids fall and shut, bringing him to a dreamless sleep. 

 

Coincidently, another kid enters their foster home that very morning. Virgil wakes up to excitement and rushing as the other kids clamor to try and get a look at the toddler that was introduced. The older kids, the teens, don’t bother, and Virgil sticks with them, knowing why they were unusually distant with the other children. 

 

But this toddler strikes him as odd once Virgil sees him. He’s still chubby, and there’s a few freckles on his face that will probably spread as the years go on. His hair is a sandy brown and messy, and there’s a gap where his left front tooth should be. He clutches a small dog plushie that has a single eye missing and regards everyone with a mixture of curiosity and fear. 

 

He’s not sure why he feels drawn to him. It’s just another baby that will be adopted before he would ever be, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But he smiles as Virgil sits across from him. It’s almost blinding, like sitting in the sun and looking up at it. 

 

Virgil instantly likes him. 

 

“Oh! Virgil, I see that you met Thomas!” Dahlia chirps, sitting in the chair as she keeps an eye on them. “He’s new here, perhaps you’ll help him settle?” Virgil nods, a small smile on his face. Dahlia’s heart swoons as Thomas plants himself into Virgil’s laps, demanding to be held without saying a word. 

 

Virgil hesitantly puts his arms around him, and Thomas closes his eyes as he puts his thumb into his mouth, quietly sucking. He looks up at her with wide, bright eyes and Dahlia laughs. “You’re probably warm, hun.” 

 

He glances down at Thomas before leaning back slightly against the wall, not really having anything else to do other than hold the toddler. It’s holding a giant teddy, he decides, and eventually he feels himself grow tired as well, and doesn’t try to fight the oncoming sleep. 

 

* * *

Both of them learn soon why they’re undesirable.

* * *

 

Virgil is sorry. He makes a note of that as he packs Thomas’s bag, filling it with clothes and their shoes, making as little noise as possible. It’s dark, and no one can see him throw a backpack filled with (what he hopes) is enough food for them, for at least a little while. He can’t shake the feeling of being watched, can’t shake the feeling that if he stays he won’t be able to protect Thomas. 

 

He’s ten years old now, and Thomas is just four years old. But Virgil can take care of him. He’s the only one who can, after all, and he swears that he will. The men in the suits had adopted both of them, but Virgil refuses to go. He won’t. They’re bad men, they don’t want to help either of them with their talents. 

 

Virgil is sorry. 

 

He gently wakes up Thomas and puts a small backpack on him, with the old dog plushie that he can’t sleep without, and he gives him the responsibility of holding the lighterweighted items, like the can opener, the two sporks, and a ton of batteries and a flashlight for both of them. 

 

He didn’t want to steal from Dahlia. He knew it would break her heart in the morning to find their beds empty, their clothes missing. He knew it would. But Virgil and Thomas have to leave. They have to for their own safety. 

 

Thomas understands the importance of being silent, and together, they quietly slip away under the dark of night. Virgil summons the shadows around them to hide their small figures so that they could walk freely without question. 

 

Virgil is sorry. 

 

* * *

 

Eventually they stop for some food. Virgil’s hair is too long, and he pushes it out of the way as he sets Thomas down on the ground of a park. Three days of nonstop walking has made Virgil starving, and he quickly opens a can of beans. He practically scarfs it down, before feeding Thomas the rest. Thomas looks up at him with big eyes, and Virgil sighs, handing him a granola bar. 

 

He glances around, seeing families walking by with their kids who are too young for school. He can’t leave until school is let out, otherwise he might get caught with Thomas, and getting caught is bad. He has to stay hidden, has to run away, has to take Thomas with him. Thomas needs to be safe, and Virgil can protect him. He has to. 

 

Virgil takes out a small blanket, setting up a spot underneath a giant evergreen tree with the branches big enough to provide them a good hiding spot. He puts Thomas on the blanket, and signs to him, slowly, because he’s still learning.

 

_ Stay here. I’ll be back soon. _ Thomas nods, and Virgil quietly slips out into the park, noticing that a stream of kids were walking down the road. Good. He could go to the grocery store then, and buy more granola bars. 

 

He freezes in place as a thought occurs to him. He would need  _ money _ to buy food. He doesn’t have money. If he doesn’t have money, he won’t have food. If he doesn’t have food…

 

Virgil pushes away the thought, glaring at the sun. It’s harder to control the shadows in the daytime, since they would hide away from the sun. He could think of something when he gets there. He walks on the sidewalks, everyone overlooking him because of the time of day. He walks, and walks, and walks.

 

It seems like it’s the only thing that makes sense to him. 

 

* * *

 

The grocery store is crowded, which is good for him, and it makes it easy to blend in with the crowd without the help of the shadows. Still, it would be better if he could, since he would be able to just walk in and walk out with what he needs. 

 

He doesn’t want to do this. 

 

This is for Thomas, he reminds himself as he moves towards the aisle where the granola would be. 

 

This is for Thomas, he reminds himself as he takes a big box. His hand flutters to his pocket, and he forces himself to focus on the shadows, letting them wash over him like slime. It obscures his vision, making it look like he’s seeing through sunglasses. It helps, however, as he walks through the doors of the grocery store. 

 

This is for Thomas. He moves towards the park, ignoring the way sirens wail past him. He focuses on bringing the box to him, and is already thinking about where to go after this.

 

He doesn’t want to do this. 

 

They’re in a bigger city now, the grocery incident long behind him. Two weeks, exactly, and soon he learns from the other street urchins how to pickpocket, and who to pickpocket. Virgil slinks between people, his hands rummaging into people’s pockets for a few spare dollars, some pennies and dimes. He hopes that he isn’t taking any money that people really need. 

 

Thomas is stashed away in the old industrial part of town, hidden in an abandoned warehouse. He’s lost a lot of weight, but Virgil swears that more often than not that Virgil is going hungry, not Thomas. He’s taking care of Thomas. The best that he can. 

 

He takes someone’s wallet, slipping away and stashing it into his hoodie. He plucks at his clothes, and shivers, knowing that their world was about to get a lot colder now. The city is warmer than the small town they’d traveled from, from all those weeks ago, but it feels like a lifetime. 

 

Virgil pushes away those memories. He can’t cry in public, because it drives the shadows away and makes him open and vulnerable. But he longs for Dahlia’s sweetness, and even the closeness of the other kids. 

 

_ You have Thomas, _ he scolds himself. Thomas needs him, and he needs Thomas. If not for the fact that they were each other’s world. He looks up to Virgil, while somehow understanding that they were in trouble, and that they needed to be quiet when Virgil said so. His sign language was coming along nicely to, and that’s a blessing Virgil counts everyday. 

 

The walk through the city gets colder as it goes from afternoon to dusk, and soon there’s a golden glow about everything, and it’s pretty. Virgil knows that Thomas would be at the windows, looking out across the city. He’s not supposed to be, since it’s dangerous, but Virgil can understand why. 

 

He’s about to turn into an alleyway when a hand drops onto his shoulder and he jumps away, turning to face a grinning man. “Hey there kid,” He says, his voice soft. Virgil feels his gut twist and he takes a step back. “You look hungry.”

 

That was true, but Virgil narrows his eyes and glares at him. “Don’t be like that,” The man laughs, taking him roughly by the arm and pulling him along. “I can treat you to whatever you want.”

 

Virgil twists and fights, fear and panic rising to his chest. He tugs, making a small noise from his back of his throat. The man turns to him and raises an arm, and Virgil…

 

Is suddenly standing in front of a weeping man, darkness swirling around him and making seemingly making him weep harder. He looks into Virgil eyes and sobs, falling to the ground. Something falls out of the mans pockets, and after a quick glance, he swipes it and runs away. 

 

He still hears the man weeping, even when he’s blocks away. He doesn’t stop running away until Virgil sees Thomas, and he nearly falls to the ground in exhaustion. He always knew his shadows could do that, but he...he never meant to hurt anyone. 

 

But that man meant to hurt  _ him.  _

 

Virgil shakes the thoughts from his head, gently tapping the floor once, then twice in quick succession to bring Thomas running to him, a big smile on his face. Virgil engulfs him in a hug, and…

 

_ If I could do that to the man, I could get more money from more people.  _

 

He sets Thomas down.  _ Can you count this please? I need to take a break.  _ Thomas nods and breaks out into a smile as coins and dollars from his hand, and the two wallets. Usually he would never try to even take one, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt.

 

Virgil looks at Thomas as he counts the money out loud, using a soft voice. Virgil sighs, sagging against a beam. The warehouse is old, and dirty, but it’s out of sight and out of mind, and as far as he knows, no one even knows that the upper floors are reachable. As such it’s empty, save for a few older tables that must have been too heavy to lift. Or just not worth it. 

 

He recounts back to when he had first used his own powers against the bullies at school, and his heart hurts. He wants that life, before that time. To go back to normal. To be normal. To have Dahlia hold him again. 

 

He puts those thoughts away. That was for a different time. Not now. 

 

Virgil slides down the beam, glancing around the warehouse once more. The golden glow from earlier filters in through the windows, and the dust he kicked up earlier floats in the air, visible. It’s pretty. 

 

But the exhaustion and fear from earlier make his eyelids droop, and sleeps. 

 

Virgil doesn’t want to do this. Two years later, and Virgil is more often hungry than not, and he finds himself eating leftovers from dumpsters in the alleyways of the city. It’s not enough, it’s never enough and he has to do this.

 

He glances around the block, having trailed two drunk, yet obviously rich, men from a bar for a few blocks. One of them has his arm around the other, and they stumble down the sidewalk, singing a song that Virgil doesn’t know. 

 

His heart clenches with guilt and hurt as he raises an arm, the street lights above him flickering and going out with a small pop. The two men glance at him, reacting too slowly as the shadows overwhelm them. 

 

Running over, Virgil searches their pockets, grabbing the money out of their wallets and running away. He doesn’t stop until he hides in an alleyway, panting and doubling over. Guilt wracks his body and a few tears slide down, and his breathing becomes shallower. 

 

Forcing himself up, he walks back to the warehouse, too exhausted to think about the two men. He climbs into the nest of thrifted blankets from over the month next to Thomas, and sleeps. 

 

* * *

 

 

Two years later, it becomes too easy to take from people. But he doesn’t take from everyone, just people he knows wouldn’t miss it. Men in business suits who read the news on their phones, women with fancy dresses and flimsy purses. He doesn’t take from anyone who has a family, but everyone has a family, and he has to be strong. He has to, in order to make sure that Thomas is safe and taken care of. 

 

Thomas is his family, and he’s just six years old now. Virgil has tried to teach him how to read, and although he’s smart, Thomas is stubborn. 

 

But two years later, and Virgil has a plan forming. He thinks no one is looking for him anymore, probably presumed dead. His heart doesn’t ache as bad as it should be when he thinks of Dahlia, and he shakes it off as he puts his hoodie up. 

 

Vaguely, in the back of his mind, no twelve year old should have to do this. No one should, really, but Virgil won’t hurt anyone. He won’t. He just needs to get enough to take care of Thomas, and then he can lay low before striking again. Just enough. Not too much, but enough for the winter. 

 

He fights against the bitter cold of the wind, shivering slightly. He rubs his hands together as he faces the bank across the street. He can’t see himself, but he knows he looks bad. Skinny, pale, bags under his eyes from not sleeping enough. The clothes on his body, an old pair of jeans and a thin hoodie are barely enough to keep him warm. 

 

Virgil crosses the street, his shadows prepared. It had taken a while to get used to controlling them, but the darkness obeys him now. It’s as easy as breathing now, and soon it covers him, blocking from the view of any passerbys. This could also be a test, for him to see if cameras could pick up on his image. Of course, it probably doesn’t matter in the long run for what he’s going to do now. 

 

He walks in, relishing in the warmth for a bit before walking on. He doesn’t have a map of the place, and doesn’t even know where he’s going until he starts to follow a young guard and an elderly man. It leads him to a vault, and inside the amount of money makes his stomach drop. 

 

Just enough, not too much. He has to remind himself as he walks into the vault before door before it closes, the lights turning off. There’s the faint lights in the corner of the room, highlighting the stacks of green that made most people go mad with greed. A pit settles into the bottom of his stomach as he steps forward. Sirens blare, and he manages to grab a few stacks before setting back into the shadows. 

 

He takes in a deep breath and feels his stomach drop temporarily before he finds himself in an alleyway, two blocks away. Sirens wail as police cars rush past him, and he walks in the opposite direction, his head down. Snow falls down gently, and Virgil shivers when he looks up, a hand out to catch the snowflakes. They melt in his hands, and he continues on.

 

He thumbs the money, biting the inside of his cheek. They needed this, and he had only taken, what, like three? Four? Five, at the most. Thomas needed new clothes, and they needed food, and winter was coming and it wouldn’t hurt to get a heated blanket for the both of them. They had to survive the winter, at least. 

 

Virgil runs a hand through his hair, wincing at the length. It was long enough for it to fall against his shoulders now, and he needed to cut it. Thomas needs a haircut as well, considering how he let it grow out through the years. 

 

Virgil passes by an alleyway, and then stops, going back to stare into it. A man holds a knife against a lady, who’s pressed into the wall of the building, shaking and scared. She doesn’t look like much to steal from, someone Virgil would pass up any day. But he takes one look at the man and steps into the alleyway, summoning a shadow. 

 

A shadow of him forms besides the lady, and the robber stares at it, his grip loosening on his knife. “You should let her go,” The shadow says suddenly, startling even Virgil. He fights to keep his concentration, trying to keep the darkness away from his mind. 

 

The robber turns and flees, and Virgil holds the shadow up for a minute before he collapses, gasping and shuddering on the ground. Nausea worms his way into his stomach and he forces the bile down as the lady walks to him, her eyes wide with concern. “Did...did you do that, young man?” She asks softly, and Virgil nods, unable to think of anything over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

 

She moves slightly, and Virgil unfocuses slightly, staring at the five dollar bill being handed to him. “Here. It’s… it’s the least I could do to help you out,” 

 

He tries to shake his head, tries to refuse it, but the lady puts it into his hand and walks away briskly, and Virgil stares at it, wondering what to do. He knows what he should do, and his legs move before he even gets a chance to think about it as he walks towards a department store. 

 

* * *

 

 

Virgil takes to patrolling the streets. He trains himself, reading books at the library and renting martial arts DVDs. Their warehouse floor is comfortable now, with some furniture that Virgil was able to teleport to them, and a hookup for electricity and a space heater warming up the place for the winter. 

 

He buys some toys and books for Thomas too, much to his delight. Every so often, he does take him out to the park, posing as an older brother watching over his younger sibling. Which, really, wasn’t too far from the truth. Thomas and Virgil are brothers in every sense of the word, and Virgil takes care of him the best he can. 

 

But Virgil grows stronger over the winter break, teaching himself how to climb up the sides of buildings, learning how to take falls and soften them. He manages to get the shadows to work with him as well, and he stops as many petty crimes as he can through the winter. The money he secured from robbing the bank secured them at least until the middle of spring, but that was stretching it. Of course, he wouldn’t spend it frivolously, and often kept it away from Thomas’s impulsive and childish desires.  

 

But the night of New Years Eve, Virgil takes Thomas out for some late gift shopping, and buys him nearly everything he ever wants that he lays on, and smiles at the look of his younger brother squealing in delight at the taste of some ice cream. 

 

Everyone deserves to be a kid, just for a night. 

 

* * *

 

 

Two years later, at age fourteen, he’s earned claim over this city. Not officially, and definitely not legally. No, this is his city because he’s protected its citizens and robbed it of money. He’s brought attention to the worst problems, making the city officials recognize them for once. He’s the voice of the common people, the voice of those who struggle to survive. 

 

At least, that’s what the news outlets are all saying about Virgil. They’ve even given him a name, “Shadows” which, okay, sounds pretty cool to him. But “Vigilante Virgil” is just as cool, but letting them know his real name is just… not appealing. It would put him and Thomas in danger. Virgil has to protect Thomas, it’s the biggest reason why he’s even doing this in the first place. 

 

Of course, becoming a famous Anti-Hero attracts attention from everyone. Heroes, villains. And, most recently, other kids wanting a better life. The most recent one was just a ten year old who had been wanting to take care of her mom without facing the wrath of her stepdad. Virgil had promptly taken care of the stepdad and given the girl and her mom enough money to last them a month, at least. It left him with a sinking feeling in his stomach when he had to leave before the police arrived. Virgil wanted to make sure they were okay, but it wasn’t possible without getting caught. 

 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Of course he can’t make sure everyone is okay, but he wishes he could. He knows that if the roles were reversed, he would want to be checked in every so often by whoever saved them. But he can’t, not without the police noticing. 

 

The police are getting frustrated, which is amusing to him. He notices the way there are more patrol cars at night, the way some cops hung out casually by the bars. Good for the city, since they were putting in more work into actually doing their job. 

 

Virgil perches atop a building, watching the streets. Being a vigilante requires an outfit that would allow him to fight and yet still look decent. He had to ditch the hoodies and jeans for a black t-shirt, an oversized trench-coat he had found in a thrift store, as well as a pair of sweatpants. It was all black, which made blending into the shadows easier, but it didn’t give him an exactly friendly looking appearance. That fact suits him just fine, considering he doesn’t really do heroics. 

 

Sure, some people like the lady from before were nice enough to repay him, but others just took it for granted. Maybe the great vigilante Shadows would help them if they got into trouble! Which, okay, yeah he did for the most part, but again;he can’t help everyone and make sure that they’re okay. 

 

Besides, over the course of two years, he’s learned a few to hone the darkness, bend it more finely into his will. Not only could it be offensive, using it to boost his own strength and speed, but he used it more often than not to shadow travel, prefering to evade the police or whoever is trying to capture him. But the newest feature was being able to manifest a shadow of himself, like he did years ago, to be able to carry and grab whatever he needs, and he could make multiple copies as well. Plus, if he focuses, one of them can speak. 

 

The sound of garbage cans falling brings him to the real world, and he focuses, seeing another man mug another. He lazily brings the shadows up to swirl around their feet as a warning. The other man runs off, hastily saying thanks to himself. The mugger, however, whirls around, trying to look for him. “Sh-Show yourself, Shadows!” He shouts, revealing a knife in the light of the streetlamps. He turns, looking into the alleyway and jumping at the site of a cat who hisses at him and runs away. 

 

He really just needs to look up to find Virgil, but he calls the shadows off, and checks the time. It’s another hour until the sun rises, but he can feel the exhaustion of the night heavy on his shoulders. He rubs his eyes angrily, cursing and scowling at himself. He has to do better. But he can’t ignore the empty feeling in his stomach and the feeling of his eyes drooping. 

 

Virgil hops off the building and into an alleyway, opting to use his shadows to pickpocket the drunk college goers going back to their dorms for the night. As he goes home for the night, he doesn’t consider the fact that halfway across the country, two men are discussing him. 

 

Virgil sneezes, wrinkling his nose. 

 

* * *

 

 

Logan glances over the paper to look at his husband, who’s humming and pouring coffee. He sighs, putting the paper down. “You’re dead set on this, aren’t you?” Even though he already knows the answer, he takes the cup of coffee. 

 

“Yes. I mean, he can’t be older than 16! Imagine being alone at your age and discovering your powers,” Patton scolds, sitting down across from him. It’s a rainy morning, and Logan glances outside before sighing. “Besides, he needs proper guidance.” 

 

Patton certainly knows how to push his buttons, despite his cheery exterior. The light blue glint of his eyes are steely today, and they stare into Logan’s own. He feels his fingers twitch to adjust Patton’s glasses onto his face.

 

Logan stands, sighing. “I’ll see if I can’t get both of us transferred or referred to a school there. It would be easier than just leaving.” He frowns slightly, but pushes any notions of fighting against Patton. He’s stubborn once he’s set on something, and he’s set on finding this ‘Shadows’ vigilante and giving him a proper home. 

 

But Shadows… unsettles Logan, to say in the least. The look in his eyes from the blurry footage and social media pictures of him makes him doubt that the kid is doing it in an act of rebellion. It’s almost desperate, the way he moves away from the prying eyes of video cameras. As if he knows that there are people looking for him. 

 

Patton and Logan smile as they do the paperwork to transfer to an art school in the city where Shadows is, and they gossip and swap excuses as to why they want to move. A change of scenery, Logan wants to see what it’s like to work at an Art School, and Patton has a soft spot for younger kids anyways. 

 

So they pack up their tiny apartment, saying their goodbyes to their neighbors, and putting their old home behind in the search of Shadows. 

 

* * *

 

That school year, a boy the same age as Virgil enters the same school as Logan and Patton, enrolled in the theater arts program. He carries himself with confidence and charisma, winning the hearts of his classmates and teachers alike. 

 

But really, he’s there for the same reason as the two teachers in the upper classes. Roman Crowns has his own secrets, afterall, and if this Shadows person can help him, then he’s going to get him to help him. 

 

Whether or not he wants to. 


	2. Welcome Wagon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hewwo! OwO
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support for this story! I know it seems like I'm updating quickly but trust me updates will not be a regular occurrence, sorry in advance for that! Also, please head the warnings in the tags. I am not going to be going easy on our boys here, and it will not be nice to read. 
> 
> If you want to talk, my tumblr is
> 
> [logan-sanders-rambles](https://logan-sanders-rambles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Anyways, some warnings for towards the end of the chapter: alcohol, abuse, and child abuse

Virgil walks through the crowds of parents and children shopping for school supplies, silent and observant towards potential people to pickpocket. There’s been an increase of people moving towards his city, and it makes him almost giddy knowing it’s because of him. Of course, it also means that there’s more expectations on his shoulders now, which means he can’t focus on Thomas as much as he would like. But Thomas has been growing up, a little bit too quickly for his taste, and he longs to sign him up for school, to socialize with the other kids his age. 

 

Eventually, he has to stop and sit down on one of the nearby benches. There’s no one else sitting there, and the shadows fall away to reveal a sullen teenager, who, at first glance, is sulking and waiting for someone, perhaps a parent, to pick him up. It wouldn’t hurt him to smile, but instead he glares at the sun, happy for the fact that the leaves are starting turn color already. Fall is his favorite season, if for the fact that it made stealing candy too easy. Literally, considering Halloween was coming up. 

 

Maybe he could buy Thomas a costume and together they could go trick-or-treating. Apparently they were selling costumes of Virgil now, and the thought of a miniature version of him running around made him smile, if only for a moment. He relaxes into the hard metal bench, the image of Thomas wearing a trenchcoat either amusing or anxiety inducing. It was a mixture of both, and the mere thought of Thomas following him at night doing his vigilante work-

 

His thoughts stop as two grown men sit down on the other side of the bench, and he watches them from the corners of his eyes. To an untrained eye, they look like they were just two friends out shopping and catching up on lost time. But he takes in the closeness of the two, their golden bands glinting in the sun and the stolen looks of affection from either of them. 

 

A mixture of anxiety and curiosity form inside of his stomach, and he continues to stare off, his hands shoved into his pocket and slouched over slightly. One of them, the slightly taller of the two that’s dressed up like a teacher, which means he probably is, is seemingly scolding his partner (His husband, Virgil reminds himself) about going out in such a bulky sweater. It’s something so mundane, so  _ boring _ , that it makes his anxiety worse. 

 

Why did they sit next to him? Where they looking for him? Neither of them looked like the men in suits from when he was younger, and neither of them were particularly good at acting like they weren’t watching him. He resists the urge to turn to them and stare, just to make them go away. It’s not like he can use his shadows either, since a teenager there and then suddenly not there would surely make them suspicious. 

 

So he forces himself to sit still, eyes down cast into his lap. There’s a faint scowl on his lips, like he’s angry at something. Which, he  _ is _ , just at the two strangers sitting on the same bench as him. His scowl deepens. What a stupid thing to be angry about, they probably weren’t even aware of who he is-

 

“Excuse me, young man?” One of the men, the one who’s probably a teacher, speaks up and stares at him. Virgil jumps slightly and looks at him, blinking. “We’re lost, I’m afraid we misplaced our map. Could you tell us where we are, perhaps point us in the direction of the local art school?” 

 

Virgil stares at him with large, unblinking eyes. Surprisingly, the man stares back, as if used to this sort of challenge. And Virgil, finding himself somewhat intimidated for once, starts to sign.  _ Sorry, I don’t know where the school is. _

 

The two men stare at his hand movements, and he repeats them, slower this time. There have been a few instances of someone knowing sign language, and it was just a matter of going slowly. But the men continue to stare until Virgil slumps, slightly shaking his head. Then, one of them perks up and opens a...briefcase? (How did he not notice that before that’s so  _ stupid of him- _ ) and gives him a pen and a pad of paper. 

 

He takes the pen, the unfamiliar weight of it in his hand. But he uncaps it and writes down what his answer is. He hands the pen and pad back to the man, and Virgil just now realizes that his heart is beating out of his chest, and it’s so loud that he’s sure the others can hear it, and-

 

“Ah, I see. Well, that’s fine kiddo! I’m sure we’ll find it, maybe even that hero fellow could help us out?” The other man, who’s wearing a sweater that’s bulky and way too hot for the weather, says in a joking manner. Virgil rolls his eyes, getting up and walking away. His neck prickles with their eyes on him until he loses himself in the crowd. 

 

Virgil needs to be more careful. 

 

But apparently, nothing is going to be easy for him. People start to swarm the streets, and soon he’s lost in a jungle of limbs and legs, trying to push his way through. The noise of people walking and talking deafen him, and his vision tunnels slightly. He moves to grab the wall, only to barely move out of the way of a group of other teenagers, slightly older than him. Someone pushes him away, and he barely dodges an elbow to the face. Virgil is almost,  _ almost _ tempted to run into the street, if just to breathe for a moment, but the sound of a car’s tires screeching shaking the idea from his head, and he moves on. 

 

Sticking to the walls gets difficult, but he eventually finds an empty alleyway, and he ducks into it, sucking in a deep breath. The noise goes away, and the static in his head fades away as he forces himself to take slow and deep breaths. Virgil hasn’t had an anxiety attack in a while, and he can barely remember the movements. But he breathes. He stills his hands and forces them against the wall. The rough texture and the overall coolness of it grounds him, and he takes in one last breath. 

 

Whenever something like this happens, he tries to know  _ why _ . Mostly to avoid it, but he wants to overcome this anxiety eventually. He will. He always does. But Virgil pushes that thought away as a can is kicked into his peripherals, and he pretends not to notice, taking in another deep breath. He hears footsteps, and they inch closer to him, as if they’re afraid. He frowns slightly. There’s no reason to be afraid of him. Unless you  _ have _ a reason to be afraid of him, but he’s not threatening in his normal clothes. 

 

The person takes another step, and Virgil faces the alleyway, narrowing his eyes. The can from before rolls slightly, and he feels a pair of eyes on him. Whoever this person is, they’re determined not to show themselves to him. Which, fine, whatever, but he knows now, and he knows that the person knows. 

 

So he crosses his arms, and waits. 

 

A few minutes pass, and no one reveals themselves. Sighing, Virgil turns to leave, before hearing the other person running off. He doesn’t bother turning around to try and look at whoever it is. They’re clearly afraid of him, and well, Virgil doesn’t  _ want _ people to afraid of him. Unless they were bad people. Then they should be.

 

* * *

 

Roman runs off in the other direction of the alleyway, a smile on his face. He knows what Shadows look like. He hadn’t taken a picture, but he  _ knows _ now, and now he can find him! He bursts through the other side of the street, this one less crowded and quieter. He pushes his hair back, scowling at the muck on his shoes. He  _ just _ cleaned them yesterday, but  _ nooooo _ Shadows has to prefer dark,  _ dirty  _ alleyways to something more pleasant. Like a park. 

 

He walks along the street, humming happily to himself. There’s no reason for him to be out now, but Roman can’t stand being confined to his room for another minute. Not when there’s a vigilante that’s running around, and possibly others like him in this town. He wants to meet them! Surely, there has to be a secret place for everyone to meet up-

 

Unceremoniously, Roman bumps into someone taller and stronger than him, gentle yet firm hands catching him. He blinks a few times until the hands release him as he regains his balance, and he gives the man a sheepish smile. 

 

“Sorry! Lost in thought,” He says cheerly, and then he recognizes the man’s gentle blue eyes and splattering of freckles, and his grin gets bigger. “Mr. Sanders! Hi!” 

 

“Hello Roman!” His arts teacher responds, giving him a gentle smile. “How are you today? It’s rather busy, isn’t it?” 

 

Roman nods in agreement, spying the other man behind him. He clears his throat, and his teacher steps away. This one, unlike the other, seems to be all rules and a general stick in the mud. Stil, he smiles and holds his hand out. “I’m Roman Crowns, nice to meet you!” 

 

The man takes his hand, shaking it and giving a small smile. “I’m Logan. I teach the advanced architecture classes at your school.” Roman looks down for a split second, spying the golden band around each of the mens ring fingers. Cool! Maybe this town wasn’t as snobbish as he thought. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” He bows his head slightly, a faint blush coming to his cheeks. He hates not remembering people, when people are one of his best assets. It’s always good to get along well with his teachers. He could usually use all the help he could get anyways. 

 

Logan hums a bit. “Don’t worry, we probably won’t be meeting each other often. But Patton here sings praises of your acting.” 

 

“Yeah!” Patton chirps in, his eyes bright and his smile somehow even wider than before. With a start, Roman sees a dimple on Pattons cheek before he continues on. “Seriously kiddo, you could be on Broadway by now! How’s your parents, by the way? Have you talked to them yet?” 

 

“Ah, no, not yet. I will when I get home though!” He adds on, knowing the way the teachers send a glance in each others directions. Technically, Roman wasn’t even supposed to be on his own yet, but he’s renting out a room at a boarding house ran by a little old lady who made the best cookies. 

 

The flash of concern passes, and Patton ruffles his hair. “Well, we better get going! We’ve got important paperwork to do!” 

 

Logan rolls his eyes, scoffing. “He means he’s going to browse the internet while  _ I  _ do the paperwork,” He says dryly, a hint of a smirk on his face. He chuckles slightly, the image of his two teachers doing normal, human, stuff is odd. 

 

“Right, well, I’ll see you when school starts!” Roman nods his head before practically sprinting away, his heart soaring. Wow. A fresh change of scenery was great for himself! He couldn’t wait to get home and plan out his meeting with Shadows, and finally learn about his passion. 

 

Roman can’t keep the grin off of his face as he rounds the corner, barely missing a young couple. This year is going to be great. He knows it. 

 

* * *

 

Virgil goes home, rubbing his eyes. A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s almost evening, and he sinks into a pile of blankets on the floor, eyeing the TV warily. He brings his knuckles to the floor, knocking three times. He hears Thomas get up, and he walks over to him, his head tilted like a dog. Or a cat. 

 

_ Did you get your work done today? _ He signs, glancing at the unopened History and English books. Thomas shakes his head, and Virgil sighs as he sits up.  _ Here, let’s go through this together.  _

 

Thomas dutifully brings the books over, and they pour over the information, Virgil pausing every so often to quiz him. He doesn’t want Thomas to be behind in his school work, and even he makes sure that to brush up on his skills every so often. He doesn’t know what schools are teaching nowadays, but he’s trying. 

 

_ V-I-R-G-I-L.  _ Thomas finger spells, catching his attention. He blinks, and looks at where Thomas is pointing. They were finally on the Revolutionary War, which he’s not even sure that Thomas should know about it, but the textbook is the most recent one he could find.  _ Why dump tea? _

 

He has to think about it, his eyes glancing over the words before signing,  _ To make a point. To show they will not be happy.  _

 

Thomas stares intently at the picture, and he wishes he knew what he was thinking. Just to see if Thomas is okay, but to see if he’s truly learning from this. He really doesn’t want Thomas to grow up without an education, and as sketchy as this is, it’s the best he can do. 

 

Then, he signs.  _ Like you. _ Instead of  _ you _ , however, he holds a hand to his chest, and brings his other hand down in an L-shape. He signs  _ brother _ often in reference to Virgil.

 

Virgil smiles.  _ A little. I do my work for us.  _

 

Thomas thinks for a moment, before sighing loudly. “I’m hungry,” He says, and they both get up to go to their kitchen area. Which, is to say, is a small electric stove and whatever dry goods they have. Virgil scans the food, before bringing out a can of soup and pointing to it. “Yeah, sure!”

 

He goes through the motions of making the can of soup, a tug on his heart when he thinks about food that other families,  _ real _ families, would be eating. Someone would be eating a feast, while others, he knew, would be lucky to eat an old slice of bread. In a way, they were lucky. 

 

In other ways, Virgil wishes that they had more. That he could  _ give _ more to him. But he looks around the warehouse, and thinks about their years of struggle. They still were, but now he’s doing better, and Thomas is smart. He grabs the bowls he bought a while ago and places the soup into, sighing. 

 

_ Are you bored by yourself, Thomas? _ Virgil signs to him when he catches his eye. Thomas shakes his head.  _ You know, you can go out now. There’s no one to hide from anymore. _ He doesn’t add on that they’re not looking for Thomas anymore, but that’s not the point. Just because the focus is solely on Shadows now doesn’t mean that someone won’t try to harm him. 

 

_ I know. I just don’t want to. _ Virgil frowns, about to ask why, when something on the TV flickers for a bit. He gets up, eyeing it warily as he adjusts the antenna on it. Once the signal is clear, he just sees the same boring newscaster reporting for the evening. 

 

Virgil turns to him, trying not show his concern so that he doesn’t pressure Thomas. Maybe a little bit of pressure would be needed, but he needs to try without doing that first.  _ Why don’t you want to go outside? _

 

Thomas thinks for a moment.  _ I have you.  _

 

His heart aches as he practically throws himself at the floor to hug him, squeezing him tightly. Thomas hugs him back as he hums happily, then they resume their eating and reading. The sun sets, dipping the warehouse from warm oranges and yellows to cold blues and purples. 

 

Eventually, Virgil tucks Thomas into bed, kissing him on the forehead briefly. He rarely got to sleep through the night, opting to sleep until the afternoon. He never let Thomas in with that sleeping schedule, even though he shouldn’t be left alone for this long. But he has to be able to go out to stop crime or whatever. The city has become more dependent on him. 

 

He frowns at the thought for a second as he slips on his trenchcoat, worrying the sleeves for a bit. Maybe it would be a good to just take it easy tonight, since there’s been a significant decrease in activity. But that doesn’t mean someone won’t need him, and what will the people think then? Will he be called lazy? Will someone die if he doesn’t prevent a crime tonight? 

 

Letting out a breath, Virgil pushes his hair back, scowling to himself as he slips out the fire escape. He calls out to the shadows, the black on black swirling around him as he climbs up the wall, hopping from old windowsill to old windowsill. 

 

Virgil leaps to the next warehouse, taking a running start and rolling into the land. He doesn’t stop, enjoying the feeling of the wind rushing around his face and through his hair, the drop of his stomach and feeling of adrenaline. It’s so easy to explore a city like this, even during the daytime since no one looks up. 

 

Running around the city and stopping various petty crimes, escorting a drunk lady to her apartment, and just general watching over the neighborhoods, he lands softly in an alleyway. He takes in a deep breath, a smile on his face. 

 

Which vanishes the minute someone turns into the alleyway to face him. His stark white costume and red sash stand out under the light, and he has to laugh at their costume. If this person is going to play hero for the night, then why dress up as a prince? Although, he muses, this will probably be stunning for the media. 

 

“Shadows! I’ve come here to challenge you!” The person calls out, and Virgil knows that just from the tone of his voice that he’s just another teen trying to be cocky. He arches an eyebrow at him, trying to look as bored as possible. As far as he can tell, the other teenager isn’t holding any weapons, and isn’t hiding anything either. Maybe he’s stupid. 

 

Or maybe he has something to fight Virgil with. 

 

Virgil faces him, a shadow manifesting into himself near him. “What do you want?” It demands, the voice garbled and messed up, like trying to connect to someone halfway across the world with the sound of static. 

 

“You and I,” The hero takes a step back and Virgil stiffens visibly, but he tries to play it off. “Are remarkably the same.” 

 

The shadow laughs. “Heard that before. Go home, this isn’t for you.” The shadow appears to melt back into darkness, but too quickly, the other teen raises an arm and shoots a bright red ball of energy towards him. 

 

He manages to barely dodge, the blast scraping his arm. Grabbing his arm, Virgil hisses in pain upon seeing the redness and blistering of the skin, and the burnt clothing. He takes a defensive stance, letting the shadows take over the alleyway. The other teenager lets out a strangled yelp, and he rolls his eyes. 

 

“I want you,” The teen says, obviously trying not to show his fear despite the shaking in his voice. “To teach me how to use my powers.” 

 

What. 

 

_ What? _ He signs to him, almost automatically until he fires another blast towards him, this time hitting the garbage cans behind Virgil. Adrenaline starts to course itself through his veins and he takes in the teenager, and decides that fighting long range isn’t going to help, so he has to get in close, but the other teenager seems to be bulkier than him. 

 

Virgil squints at the teen. Fine, he can throw a few punches tonight. He doesn’t want to, but the teen is forcing his hand. But before he can start, the teen smiles at him. 

 

“Where are my manners!” He projects his voice, and Virgil winces. His eyes widden as he sees an red glow encompass the teen, and he fights the urge to run. “My name is Roman Crown! It’s a pleasure to meet you, uh…”

 

He crosses his arms, the shadows laughing faintly. He’s not  _ that _ stupid, and he doesn’t want anyone to find out who he is. Roman frowns, disappointed. Then he shoots another blast towards Virgil, and he rolls out of the way, taking coverage behind a dumpster. It’s flimsy at best, but it gives him time to call the shadows to him, and he charges the boy, grabbing him by the shoulders. 

 

The other boy grabs him as well, their two powers sending off sparks into the night. Virgil grits his teeth as he realizes his mistake;his opponent is stronger than him, and he can’t win this by brute force, even with his powers. So he sheds some of the shadows away from him, trying to ignore the darkness and static on the edges of his mind. God  _ damn it,  _ he hasn’t tried to reign himself in in forever, and this damn kid is already pushing him to his limits. 

 

A shadow clone jumps Roman, causing the other teen to help and loosen his grip. Virgil takes the opportunity to knee the other in the stomach, then push him away as he calls the shadows off, and runs off. 

 

“Hey, wait!! I’m not finished!” Roman cries out, scrambling to get up, but Virgil is already vaulting into the fire escapes and climbing up the building, his breath hitching and getting caught in his throat as he stumbles onto the roof.

 

Gravel digs into his knees and hands, and he’s grateful for the stimulation as his chest constricts and threatens to collapse on him, with his heart roaring in his ears. He can’t focus on his breathing, the static becoming louder and louder in his head. He pushes it back, a wave of nausea and pain rolling through his body. 

 

It’s been a long time since anyone besides Virgil pushed him to his limits today, and he collapses into the gravel, the ground cool and grounding. Eventually his breathing evens out and he lays there, watching as the night falls away to early morning. No wonder it hadn’t taken much for the other teen to drain him, he’s been out all night. 

 

Virgil rolls onto his back, watching the sky turn blue. The sounds of the city comes back to life as he lays there, tempted to just sleep and go back whenever he wakes up. But as he glances at the sunrise, he forces himself to get up, hissing in pain from his burnt arm. 

 

Roman is  _ so  _ going to pay for that. 

 

He finds a suitable place to shadow travel, and he goes right to his warehouse, practically falling into his nest of blankets and pillows. Thomas stirs besides him, and Virgil takes in the soft features of his younger brothers face, the sounds of birds chirping and the light of the sun just hitting and filling the warehouse. 

 

His eyes drop downwards, and he doesn’t fight the wave of exhaustion as he sleeps. 

 

When he wakes up, it’s to Thomas’s frantic shaking. He bolts up, adrenaline running through him until his eyes land on the old TV. The news is playing, and there’s a blurry picture of him helping the drunk woman home last night. He lets out a groan, falling back into the bed. He just wants to rest for a little bit longer, but the sting of pain on his arm makes him hiss. Virgil looks around, and figures that another hour of sleep wouldn’t hurt, right?

 

So he closes his eyes, and lets exhaustion take him away again. But when he wakes up, it’s not because of Thomas. There’s the smell of something cooking, and he gets up, rubbing his eyes. There’s a small bowl of soup in front of the TV, with a piece of paper. At first glance, there’s just scribbles on it, but as he focuses, he recognizes Thomas’s writing. 

 

_ Virgil _

_ Went out to the park! Be back soon. Please eat.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Thomas!  _

 

Virgil smiles at the small drawing of him and Thomas on the back, and he eats the semi-warm soup, his mind still foggy. He glances down at his arm, grateful for the fact that it’s not infected, and that he should clean it soon, and bandage it. He sniffs at his arm, frowning at the burnt smell. That isn’t good, he should probably fix his trenchcoat soon. 

 

He glances at the note again, giving another, soft, tired smile at the drawing before the words register. Park. Thomas is at the park.  _ Alone. _ Thomas is at the park alone and probably being watched by some concerned adult who wants to know what an eight year old is doing all alone-

 

The static arrives again and he shakes his head, stopping the line of thought. Okay, yes Thomas is at the park, but maybe he’s with a group of other kids. If he is, that means he can just pick up Thomas and leave. That soothes him slightly, and he practically tears off his trenchcoat, not bothering to put on his normal hoodie. He runs out of the warehouse, not wanting to risk shadow traveling in case it made him worse. 

 

Speed walking along the sidewalks and keeping an eye out for Thomas, he realizes that it’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon, and that there are more kids than usual out and about. He tries not to think about Thomas losing his way, or Thomas trying to find Virgil. None of those situations would be good. 

 

Then he sees a red shirt with a yellow star on it, or at least he thinks he does, and he’s about to cross the street when a hand lands on his shoulder and jumps, whirling around and bringing a hand up to defend himself. 

 

Instead of some faceless mugger, it’s the man from yesterday (that couldn’t have happened yesterday, it felt like forever ago) who got lost with his husband. He’s outside of a bakery, and Virgil notes the bags besides as he shakes off the hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Is everything alright? You look a bit panicked there.” The man says softly, and he notes that neither of them have moved an inch, and he probably should, but the man holds his stare and Virgil feels like he’s trying to glean information off of him, and he breaks eye contact first. He nods, taking in a small breath and sigh of relief. Nothing dangerous. Yet. 

 

Then the man takes his arm gently, and he winces in pain as he looks at the rather large burn on his upper arm. It’s still blistering, which can’t be good, but he can’t deal with it, right? Right, he’s gone through worse. He tries to pull it away, but instead the man sits him down on the sidewalk before rummaging through one of the bags, muttering to himself about clutter and organization. 

 

His heart begins to beat fast in his chest, and he tries to pull away once more, only for the man to rub something that stings, at first, then cools down the burn almost right away. Virgil sags in relief, the pain fading to a dull ache on his skin. He tries to sign thank you, but the man shakes his head. 

 

“I need to bandage it. Hold still, okay?” He doesn't have much of a choice, since the man  _ won’t let go of his arm _ , but. Whatever, fine. Virgil doesn’t look as he wraps gauze around it, pinning it in place. He frowns, then takes in the look of another scare that peeks out just barely from his shoulder that he knows ends underneath his left collar bone. He opens his mouth to ask a question, clearly concerned, and this is when, okay Virgil, time to fucking  _ move _ and get away from this oddball-

 

“Logan? Everything alright?” The husband to the man looks at the scene, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. The man lets go of his arm, (Logan. His name is Logan.) and he scrambles upwards, holding his arm for a minute before signing quickly.

 

Then he turns and runs across the street, trying to ignore the way his neck prickles with the feeling of eyes on him until he’s far away, and even then, it’s so stupid of him to not fight back more, he should have just used his shadows for trying hide himself, that’s so stupid-

 

Virgil runs into a tree headfirst, too lost in thoughts to notice where he was going. He groans, rubbing his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye he spots a playground, and then Thomas. He lets out a sigh of relief, almost letting a few tears fall from the sheer amount of stress he had just gone through in the last twenty four hours. Give or take. Whatever, he just wants Thomas and him to go back home and sleep. 

 

He walks forward, and Thomas is the first one to spot him. He stops in whatever game he’s playing as he waves goodbye, a cheerful voice ringing out to him. Virgil forces a smile on his face as he takes his hand and they walk around for a while, the silence encasing them with the sounds of the city. It’s a nice, if warm, day. A few of the trees were starting to have their leaves have splatters of yellows and oranges across the tips of their branches, and it reminds Virgil of his earlier thoughts. 

 

They stop for a minute, and Virgil signs to him,  _ Do you want to get a costume?  _ Thomas perks up, and Virgil has to laugh as he starts to rattle off the various characters he wants to dress up as, so that he can be a superhero!

 

“Then maybe once I’m older, I can help you out!” His voice is undeniably happy and cheery, but it makes Virgil’s blood run cold as he freezes, his mouth slightly open. Once he closes it, he licks his lips, feeling them to be dry. What can he say to him? That he doesn’t  _ want _ him to? That would crush his heart! But Thomas can’t be in the same danger as Virgil. He can’t be. Thomas isn’t meant for the activity that he does. 

 

Biting his lip, he gets eye level with Thomas, slowly signing.  _ When you’re old enough, I’ll teach you some tricks.  _ Then, to make up for it, he ruffles his hair.  _ You’re too young right now for me to teach you anything.  _

 

He doesn’t add on that Thomas is the perfect age, technically, but he doesn’t want Thomas to go through what he has to do every night. Getting him to stay up would be the hardest challenge of them all, and then the rest of it would be a slow journey to get him to catch up to Virgil. 

 

Virgil looks off into the distance, wringing his hands. There’s no reason for him to teach anyone. He has no business doing that. Much less to Thomas, much less to… He tries to remember the name of the one boy dressed up in that stupid costume, like some sort of Prince. Whatever, Princey and Thomas wouldn’t learn much from him anyways, most of it came like instinct now to him. He has no idea how to tell Princey to use his powers, since they have such drastically different powers. 

 

He resists the urge to shiver, and glances at the now bandaged up burn on his arm. It itches slightly, and he settles for scratching around it instead. A faint breeze blows and suddenly he feels very exposed without his hoodie. He should have grabbed one of his hoodies before getting Thomas, but he wasn’t thinking. It’s not like Virgil needs it, it’s still too warm for anyone to be wearing any sort of t-shirt. 

 

They walk to a Party City, the big store slightly intimidating him. But Thomas tugs on his arm and he follows him to the costumes, and he lingers near the masks. There were plenty of serial killer ones, hockey player masks, and more. A clown one makes him frown, but Thomas taps on his shoulder to reveal him wearing a too big gorilla mask. Virgil snorts, ruffling his hair before grabbing the clown one, squinting through the holes in the mask. 

 

Thomas laughs as he shakes his head, then takes off his own mask and goes off in favor of looking for other costumes. Virgil puts the clown one back, and follows him, smiling as he runs around the store. The white linoleum glares in his face as he passes by the effects make up, a reflection of another boy walking towards him catching in the plastic-

 

Virgil turns around, staring at the boy. It’s not night time anymore, and there’s no harsh yellow lighting from before either. Instead, standing underneath the fluorescent lights in normal clothes is  _ Princey.  _ In Party City. His eyes seemingly stand out as a bright green, and his wavy hair is messy, but with the purpose of being messy, almost. There’s a few freckles across his cheeks and nose, and Virgil narrows his eyes. 

 

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Thomas staring at them. As subtly as possible, he finger spells to him.  _ Stay. Don’t worry. _

 

Princey is the first one to say something. “Hello there, Shadows.” He seems all too smug about that, and Virgil rolls his eyes. It figures that he would shove that in his face. Princey stares at him for a little bit, before his eyes settle on his bandaged arm. He frowns, taking a step forward. Virgil takes a step backward, his back running into the wall of make-up. The plastic digs into him uncomfortably, and he shifts, trying to make it easier. 

 

“So, have you considered what I said?” There’s a hint of… curiosity? Intrigue? Whatever it is, Virgil  _ doesn’t like it.  _ “After all, we are very similar! And I think we would make a great superhero team.” 

 

On instinct, a shadow pools between him and Princey, and it silently whispers. He can’t hear anything discernable from it, but the look on the other boys face is enough to make him smirk. Princey stares at it, unable to move from the look of horror on his face. But he seemingly shakes himself out of it, and steps forward again. 

 

He has to resist the urge to snarl at him, opting instead to further narrow his eyes. “Don’t be like that! I’m sure there’s no harm in trying to teach me! I’m a very fast learner, after all.” Yeah, but apparently not very smart because he’s still bothering Virgil, even when shadows start to swirl around them in the store. 

 

The static gets louder in his mind as he studies the other boy, trying to relax. He doesn’t want to cause a scene here. There’s point in doing so, unless he decides to start another fight. But he came in with Thomas and he can’t let anyone know that he has him, because if they find out then they’ll really try to look for him and then if Thomas is taken away from him then he won’t have a purpose in life-

 

“Hey Roman!” The shadows around them dissipate immediately, and Virgil stares in disbelief as it’s the same damn couple from before walking over to them. Or, more specifically, the man in the obnoxiously bright orange sweater is walking towards them, while Logan is carrying an obscene amount of bags. 

 

Roman. 

 

What a dumb name. 

 

He relaxes slightly, catching Thomas’s eye and nodding slightly. He picks up the two costumes from before, and walks towards the cash register, while Virgil eyes the couple and Roman before leaving behind him, quickly paying for the overpriced costumes. When they walk out into the open air, Virgil, for once, relishes in the sun and the outside, and they walk to the warehouse. 

 

_ Who was that boy?  _ Thomas signs to him abruptly. They stop, half way home from Party City. The sun is still high up in the school, and Virgil frowns slightly. 

 

_ Just someone I keep running into. Nothing to worry about.  _ Except, that it is, but it’s not for Thomas to worry about. He should worry about being a kid for Halloween. He should worry about whether or not the costume will actually fit him. But he won’t, because he’s worried about  _ Virgil.  _

 

He smiles before signing,  _ Want some ice cream? It’s hot out.  _

 

“You’re wearing black,” He points out, and Virgil rolls his eyes, but laughs. He takes his hand and they walk off to the closest ice cream place. He lets Thomas get all the sprinkles he wants, and Virgil settles for a simple cone. 

 

For a while, everything is okay. Thomas and Virgil can pretend that they’re just brothers taking care of each other. 

 

* * *

 

Of course, that night, Virgil encounters Roman again. This time he’s sitting atop  _ his _ perch, going through his phone. He silently sneaks up behind him, clapping right next to his ear. 

 

Roman lets out a scream and nearly drops his phone, catching it at the last minute. He turns around to glare at Virgil, trying and failing to contain his laughter at the other boys scream. But he perks and smile once he recognizes, and he scrambles to his feet. 

 

“So you are going to teach me-” He starts, but stops once two of Virgil’s shadow clones flank either side of him. Roman freezes, and Virgil notes that he’s still wearing that stupid prince costume. It’s impractical. And white stains too easily. He’s wearing costume shoes, instead of sneakers or something comfortable and easy to move around in. 

 

He shakes his head. “There’s somethings I can’t teach you,” One of the shadows pushes him down and Roman stumbles, barely being able to catch himself. Out of his pockets spill his wallet and phone, and the other shadow tsks. “Unbalanced and carrying unnecessary items. If you can’t think like me, then I can’t teach you.” 

 

The shadows go away as Virgil calls them back, staring at Roman’s form. He looks around, everywhere but Virgil’s eyes. He fiddles with the edges of his sash, shifting from foot to foot. He crosses his arms, waiting for him to say what he wants to. 

 

“I-I can think like you! I know I can!” He blurts out, looking excited. Virgil almost takes a step back in recoil to the excitement. He was supposed to be scared, to run off and never show up around Virgil’s patrol. But instead he grins, and he can’t detect a trace of mockery or a dent in his stubbornness. Internalizing a groan, he calls back just one clone this time. 

 

“You already failed. Lesson one, for you?” The shadow snaps, his thoughts going unfiltered through the clone. “Is to dress for the occasion.” To prove a point, he grabs the sash and pulls him in close before tossing him easily to the side. Roman gets up, looking, for the most part, unscathed, but rather insulted. 

 

“What’s wrong with this?” He demands, getting up and dusting himself off. The clone throws the fallen phone and wallet back to him. Virgil watches him like a hawk. He doesn’t appear to be to hurt, maybe just a scrape on his palms. He pockets the phone and wallet again, walking towards Virgil. “It’s more friendly looking than your outfit, after all,” He adds on, and he rolls his eyes. 

 

“If you’re here again tomorrow night,” The shadow says, melting back into the darkness slowly. “I’m throwing you into the dumpsters and leaving you there.” 

 

With that, Virgil is gone. Well, really he just goes to the next building over and stays hidden, but to see Roman look around and flounder is something he wanted to see. Once he’s sure that Roman is able to get down the building and get home safely, because sue him he’s supposed to make sure everyone is safe, he begins his nightly patrols. 

 

Most of the time, which is to say almost every night, he mainly stops minor crimes. If he sees someone about to fight, he sends a shadow in to calm them down. A young girl is getting followed home? She won’t notice the way light doesn’t seem to reach her and how she’s hidden in shadows until she’s safe. Someone about to get mugged? Virgil stops it. 

 

But there are the cases where he peaks into the homes of people who are known abusers, and he intervenes accordingly. Tonight is not one of those nights, which is good, but the darkness keeps calling to him, urging him to destroy something, pushing him to use a little more, call on them a little more. The itch doesn’t go away by the time the sun rises, and that’s when opportunity starts. 

 

He passes by an apartment building near his home, which is to say it’s not the best neighborhood. That’s when he hears a young child scream. His blood runs cold and he immediately locates a window to the child’s location, finding a drunken man in a fit of rage against someone. The child is holding a phone, uncertain of calling the police. 

 

Virgil punches through the window, making glass shatter. The child looks up at him with wide eyes, and he puts a finger to his mouth. He glances over the child, and realizes with a start that it’s a young boy, younger than Thomas, and there’s a wide gash on his forehead that’s stopped bleeding. But it’s going to scar. It’s going to be a reminder of this night for the rest of this kids life. 

 

Taking in a deep breath, he walks into the apartment, following the sounds of parents fighting. The place is a mess, with beer bottles and garbage everywhere, the broken glass crunching under his feet. The walls have stains on them, and the spare furniture looks second hand and uncleaned. The smell of alcohol and something burnt that makes his throat itch don’t go away, and somehow, that makes him even angrier. 

 

It’s not hard to find the drunk man, throwing and yelling obscenities at a lady. Maybe the kids mom, maybe a girlfriend. Either way, Virgil surrounds both of them in the shadows, making the lights flicker. Eventually they pop, and both of them fall to the floor, the drunk man unconscious and the lady sobbing against the countertops. When he calls the shadows back, once he’s sure that the man won’t wake up, the lady looks up at him, tears streaming freely from her eyes. 

 

“He hit him,” She whispers, and Virgil freezes. “He hit him and I didn’t stop him. I should have,” Her voice breaks, and she sobs even harder. 

 

Old, distant memories rise to the surface, and he forces them away, grateful, for once, the white noise in his head as he goes to check on the kid. He looks up at him with tired eyes, and Virgil presses call on the phone. He hesitates, but lets the kid do the talking. He doesn’t want to leave, not yet, so he finds the bathroom. 

 

The kid follows him, and Virgil finds peroxide and wets some tissues with it, cleaning the wound. It’s the least he can do, especially when he picks up the sounds of sirens a block away. He turns to leave out the window, and he glances around the kids room once more. Barren and dirty, and he pushes away the memories that come to the surface when he looks at it. 

 

The sun has risen, and Virgil looks up at the sky, blue and perfect. A good day, if nothing else. His limbs gain a heaviness as he pushes himself forward, falling into the shadows and coming back up in the warehouse. He sags against a wall, barely able to walk forward and fall into the blanket pile. 

 

His eyes close, and he falls asleep. 

 


	3. New Routines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning towards the end: panic attacks, fires, Near Death Experience
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for the support! I really enjoy writing this and I'm glad others are enjoying it as well. Also, I should mention that this is all very un-beta'd. So if there are any mistakes please point them out so I can fix them!

Logan frowns as he pours over his students works, eyes glancing at the information popping out to him in bright blue lettering. He quickly marks the paper before moving on to the next one, going through the motions. The information is easily stored away and called upon, and soon he puts the piles of homework in a bag near the front of the apartment for him to pick up later. 

 

He’s out of his formal teaching attire, and walks around the tiny, if cozy, apartment silently, in search of his favorite mug. He really should stop just putting it down and leaving it wherever, it made a bit of an inconvenience when he made tea. 

 

The apartment is filled with warmth, and while tiny, it was listed as “quaint” and Patton instantly fell in love with it. At first, Logan tried to look for something different, but alas, it was the closest to their jobs, and it was located near a bakery that Patton has become a regular at. Of course, that meant there were less messes to clean up in the kitchen, and while Logan is grateful, it also meant less homecooked goodies. A bit of a weakness for him, really. 

 

Logan frowns when he sees his mug in the bathroom, trying to recall the events. Of course, the information about it sticks out to him as he stares at it. Factory made, made out of porceline, the diameter of the cup about 3.5 inches-

 

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he grabs the mug and walks into the kitchen, blindly grabbing a box and depositing it into the cup. He leans against the counter as he waits for the water boil on the stove, and glances over their apartment. Their entryway lead almost right to the kitchen, with the bathroom just to the right of it. On the left would be their dining/living room combo, and along the wall were two doors. The farthest one being the bedroom, the closest one being his office. At first glance, their apartment looks filled with sentimental objects, pictures framed on the wall and in various nooks and crannies. Two large bookshelves almost took up the entire half of the wall, leaving barely any room for a cheap TV sitting on one of the shelves. The books were all organized by alphabetical last name, and giant tomes of encyclopedias and dictionaries took up most of the bottom shelves. Near the windows there were various hanging plants, their couch simply sat against the “dining room” facing the TV. 

 

But upon closer inspection, the lack of clutter is noticeable. Almost everything is in place, and not a speck of dust rests on the bookshelves or the tables, or on the picture frames. No pencils or spare pieces of paper rested on the surface of the end table near the couch, and in the kitchen there wasn’t any plates or silverware to be found on the tops of the counters. The entire apartment felt almost too pristine, too perfect. 

 

It does look like something out of Ikea, or a magazine, he supposes, but it’s for himself mainly. To look at clutter and see everything single detail about it makes his brain short circuit, which results in not being productive. The teapot whistles, and Logan pours it into the cup, bringing the mug to the table after getting out a notebook and a pencil.

 

Inside of the notebook is every conceivable picture of Shadows, and Logan quickly gleans over the information inside of the notebook that he’s already written down in his neat handwriting. Next to the pictures were small details that he’s noticed just from the pictures alone. The trench coat, which makes for holding smaller objects and great for getting around as steathily as possible, and the way his hair seemingly always covers his eyes, even without it meaning to. 

 

He flips to the next page, glancing over the diagram he’s made of him. Couldn’t be any older than 16, at the most, and he circles a small part of his forearm, writing in it quickly. First degree burn, minor blistering, not infected. 

 

Logan stares at the information, trying to recall any information about any fire incidents that may have happened in the past two days. When there’s none, he frowns, chewing on his lip slightly. Odd. Perhaps it was self inflicted? By accident or on purpose? He takes a sip of his tea, trying to think of a solution. He loathes how thin the notebook is, wishing to fill it in with enough information to help the poor kid out. It’s clear that he isn’t used to physical contact, much less any company. 

 

His frowns deepens, and he turns a few pages to jot down a few notes about their meeting.  _ Confirmed age: 14, possibly 15. 5 feet and 6 inches tall. 110 pounds, underweight. Skin is pale, shows signs of malnourishment. Bags under his eyes, lack of sleep from vigilantism.  _

 

He pauses, going over the motions that Shadows had signed to him before he ran off. “ _ Thank you. Have to go.” _ Logan recalls their first encounter, the signing but acknowledgement.  _ Still shows signs of okay hearing. Hasn’t spoken yet. Mute? Perhaps an injury? Scar on shoulder, _ he adds, almost missing that detail. Maybe it isn’t important, but there’s no point in missing any details if it helps him find the kid sooner. 

 

The door opens, and Patton bustles in, almost covered head to toe in paint. “Hi Logan!” He grins, posing by the door. “How do I look?” There’s even some in his hair, and on his glasses. Acrylic, hopefully washable. It’s mainly red and yellow, and Logan smiles at him. 

 

“Like an absolute mess. Kindergartners needed help again, huh?” He gets up and takes off Patton’s glasses, washing them under the warm water of the sink. 

 

“Nope!” Patton moves to wrap his arms around Logan’s waist, humming happily. “First graders. You’re getting sloppy, sweetheart,” He adds in a teasing tone, making Logan roll his eyes. 

 

“Even so, you are not going to sleep in our bed covered in paint.” He wiggles and Patton lets go, pouting slightly. “Go take a shower.” He nods towards their bathroom, and hands him his glasses back. 

 

“Don’t you wanna hear about why I have paint all over me-”

 

“Nope. Because then you’ll never shower, and I, personally,” He picks up the notebook and pencil, placing them back into their respective drawers and grabbing his tea, sipping it carefully. “Like a clean husband to be around. So take a shower,” 

 

Patton pouts even further, and Logan has to resist the urge to gently kiss him, because if he does, then it won’t stop, and they’ll both be dirty. And Patton probably has homework to grade as well, and if he falls anymore behind he’ll get calls from parents. 

 

Eventually, Patton relents, groaning as he goes to the bathroom. Once he hears the shower going, Logan goes back into his office, the room bare. The lonely desk shoved by the window has paint marks all over it from Patton using it, and he smiles at the pop of color in the room. While he irritated him sometimes, Logan is grateful for Patton. He was the one to help him tune out the information, and to stop being such a hermit inside his empty apartment. 

 

The memories of the migraines makes him wince as he puts a pencil on the table, alongside a red pen that Patton favors. Then, just as quickly as he went in, he leaves. He goes back into the kitchen, pulling out some food and preparing it for their dinner. They have a long night ahead of them, and they’ll need something to eat before hand if they want to make any progress. 

 

Hunting down Shadows is almost proving impossible. But he’s just a kid, and kids always make mistakes. He will slip up, and Logan wants to be there to help him. Despite all of that, Logan also knows that Shadows is way farther ahead in using his powers than Logan was at his age. But the shadow manipulation is interesting, and Logan wants to meet him face to face, if just to talk to him about his powers. 

 

But that’s proving difficult as well, seeing as how he’s literally able to manipulate darkness and hide himself. While Patton and Logan do have powers similar, it’s not… to the  _ extent _ of hiding. Patton’s powers are mostly passive, and the same goes for Logan. However, they’re not useless if they have to fight. Which is a rare occurrence. Thankfully. 

 

Patton steps out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walks into their bedroom, changing into a pair of bright yellow sweats and a blue tank top. Logan rolls his eyes at the outfit as he shoves the vegetables into a pan to fry for a bit. “You’re impractical, Patton.” 

 

He hums, sitting down at the couch. “And you’re impossible, Logan,” He says with a grin, kicking his feet slightly. “Oh, don’t worry about any homework for me! All of the kiddos got their work done today!” 

 

“Because their work involved painting, and you got covered in it as a result.” Logan states, walking over and sitting next to Patton on the couch. “You do know that there’s such a thing as an apron, right? It helps you not get covered in acrylic paint,” 

 

Patton lets out a small laugh, looping an arm around Logan’s shoulders. “Yep! But I was so busy today, that I forgot it in my car!” There’s a twinkle in his, and he feels his eye twitch slightly as he straightens up. 

 

“Actually, you left it in the closet in the study, and you forgot that you were painting with the little kids today, and as such you brought the wrong materials to class again.” The information comes as easily to him as breathing, and it rolls off of the tongue as he recalls it. “You’re lucky I don’t have a morning class to teach,” He adds on, grumbling.

 

A finger gently boops his nose, and he blinks a few times. “You’re as sharp as ever, hun.” He presses a kiss to his cheek, and Logan fights off the blush rising to his cheeks. “Now, finish dinner while I’ll tell you what Roman Crown told me during acting practice today,” 

 

He nearly rushes into the kitchen, and quickly serves himself and Patton. At first, they have small talk, talking about their classes or their coworkers. But eventually, Patton’s fork rests and he stills, looking down into his plate with his eyebrows knitted together slightly. 

 

“Roman told me he met Shadows one night.” His voice is quiet, and almost too quiet. “I only believe him because he told us what we already know.” 

 

Logan doesn’t say anything, mulling over the information. 

 

“Well,” He says after a minute of silence. “Let’s hope that he stays out of trouble.”

 

* * *

 

Roman groans as he gets up, and Virgil watches him, shaking his head. “Try again,” One of his shadow clones say, taking a fighting stance. “You’re sloppy. Sloppiness will get you hurt.” 

 

As he glares at Virgil, he starts to fight the clone, trying to pin it down. The top of a rooftop when the sun is setting is not an ideal training place, especially when there’s no way for either of them to get down without alerting attention to themselves. Unless they jumped to the other building, but Virgil doubts that Roman is ready for that yet. 

 

Once again, the shadow manages to make Roman land on his butt. He throws up his hands, “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong! If I don’t know what my mistakes are, I can’t learn!” He says this pointedly to Virgil, who rolls his eyes as he gets up. 

 

“What you’re doing wrong,” The shadow says as he helps the other teen up, “Is leaving an opening for someone to knock you down. And in a real fight-

 

“I know, I know. In a real fight, it doesn’t stop when someone is down.” Roman sighs, dusting off his pants and grumbling. He crosses his arms and watches him fight. Then, right when the shadow takes the opening again, he grabs their arm and flings the shadow to the side, moving to keep them facing him. His mouth twitches as he moves towards him, nodding approvingly. 

 

“Keeping your opening but using it as a feign,” Another shadows says and Roman grins with pride, puffing out like a bird. “Good job. But,” The shadow takes Roman’s arm, revealing a bruise that will surely raise questions. “Be more careful for once.” 

 

Roman huffs, shaking the shadow off. “No way! Being careful is for the weaklings!” Virgil rolls his eyes. “Taking risks is a part of life! It could lead to great things in life, why hold back?” 

 

“You burnt me the first time I met, remember? You took a risk and it ended up scarring me,” Virgil rolls up his sleeve, revealing the bandage on his arm. “Your risks are the not the same as my risk, Princey.” 

 

“Ugggh, whatever, Shadowling. At least I’m making sure I’m not being perceived as weak by everyone else-”

 

Before Roman can finish his sentence, he finds himself entangled in shadows, the tendrils of darkness pulling tightly and making him gasp for air. He sees Virgil, huffing and eyes flashing with anger, his arm raised towards Roman. 

 

Just as quickly as the anger came, it’s gone, and he’s gently released from the darkness, and he sucks in a breath of air, the burning in his lungs subsiding. He looks at Virgil, who’s staring across the street now. 

 

He starts to sign sorry, but someone in the alleyway moves, and he holds up his hand to stop Roman from coming into the person’s line of sight. All he can make out is a dress shoe, and the vague figure of someone standing in the darkness of the alleyway. Normally, all Virgil would do is force the shadows back, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

 

Virgil stares at the stranger. They stare back. He frowns, stepping forward and trying to get a better look. Why can’t he  _ see _ them? His vision in the darkness is typically better than normal, but somehow this person is blocking his view. 

 

He hears Roman shift uncomfortably on the rooftop behind him, and the person finally leaves, disappearing into the shadows. Normally, Virgil would go after them, try to find out who they are and what they want. But his neck prickles with the sense of danger and a pair of eyes on him, even after the stranger is gone. 

 

“Someone was watching us.” One of the shadows states. “We need a more… secure location to train at,” Virgil scans the buildings, knowing which ones are empty and which ones are filled. The ones where late night smokers would be up on the rooftop, and the ones where kids would cry loudly at night. None of the places would be good enough to train at. The warehouse is out, since Thomas is there, and Thomas needs to sleep during the night, so-

 

“Oh, I know! You know where the local art school is, right? I go there and I can unlock the doors so we can go to the gym, or the roof! It’s bigger and flatter, and there’s no one around to watch us,” He adds on a little smugly, and he spreads his hands out, like an invitation. “So? What do you say? We could go there!” 

 

Virgil hesitates. He knows the school. He also knows that the couple are teachers there, and he briefly wonders if Roman knows them. He pushes the thought away as he nods slowly, and Roma lets out a squeal, hopping on his feet before grabbing his arm. 

 

“Let’s go then!” He eagerly awaits as Virgil lets themselves be taken away by the darkness, and they’re gone from the roof. There, and then suddenly gone. 

 

* * *

 

The stranger stares up at the teenager, knowing that all he sees is the vague figure of a man walking away. However, he’s still there, still watching them. He can’t see him properly from the angle, but what can you do? If he approaches now, he’ll surely scare off the young one, and he doesn’t want that. 

 

Instead, he watches as another boy grabs his arm, and then disappear from the rooftop. Interesting. Shadow traveling is a useful skill, and if he manages to play his cards right, then, well, there’s no telling what he could do with the kid. 

 

But the other teenager seems important to him, and that could cause a problem. In fact, it  _ is _ a problem for the stranger as he steps into the light, manifesting the yellow light into a small snake, just as long as his middle finger to his wrist. It’s a small, skinny snake with a yellow coloration, and he smiles as he runs a finger over the imaginary scales. 

 

Although tiny, and posing as a garter snake, this one is perhaps his most deadly. It can sneak in through holes in the wall, and hide in just about any warm place someone can imagine.The bite isn’t venomous, but if the snake can manage to bite his target, he’ll be able to know where the kid is where he is, at any hour of the day. Truly, it is a marvelous being. A creation fit just for himself, really. 

 

“Go,” he whispers, his left eye flashing yellow as he sees through the snakes eyes for a moment, and puts the image of Shadows into the snakes mind. “Find him. Bite him.” Soon, the snake is off, slithering into the sewers and disappearing. 

 

The man smirks, walking back into the alleyway for good this time. Soon, he would get rid of the other teenager, and then Shadows will be his to control and use to his will. 

 

Soon, the man would reveal himself to the world. 

 

* * *

 

That morning, Virgil wakes up groggy, the dream (nightmare. It was definitely a nightmare) fading away from him. It had been filled with snakes, and soon he was engulfed in nothing but them. 

 

But he shakes off the feeling of scales and coolness as he gets up, stretching and yawning. Tonight, Virgil is going to take Roman out on some  _ real  _ vigilantism, and see how well he does in a fight on his own. Maybe it was too soon, but he does learn quickly. If at all, really, since all he does is complain before the idea starts to get through his mind. 

 

He glances outside, the sun hidden behind some clouds. Good, it won’t be scorching hot today. He yawns once more, grabbing some instant coffee and warming up some water. Thomas sits in front of the TV, watching some cartoons on the screen. He turns around and waves.  _ Good morning! _

 

_ Good morning. Did you sleep well last night? _ Virgil asks, pouring the water into a cup and stirring the instant coffee into it. The smell of the coffee fills the air and he cracks open a can of condensed milk, offering some to Thomas as he pours some into his coffee. He rests the can on one of the tables before settling down next to Thomas. 

 

Thomas, almost immediately, grabs the cup out of his hands to take a sip, only to force it back into his hands, making a face. Virgil laughs, ruffling his hair as he watches the animated characters on screen make questionable choices. He really likes the one with the gem ladies, but he kinda likes them too. If only being a hero is that simple. 

 

He tenses up, blinking. Since when has he referred to himself as a hero? Virgil worries his lip, glancing at the screen then at Thomas, eating a bowl of dry cereal. He sighs, noticing the way his curls seemingly fall across his face. He puts a hand in his hair and Thomas looks up at him, eyes wide with curiosity. 

 

_ You need a haircut.  _ He makes a cutting motion near his head, and he scowls, and he almost laughs instead.  _ C’mon, we can watch cartoons while we do it together.  _ He brightens up at that and sits still while Virgil gets the scissors. 

 

Virgil, really, shouldn’t be allowed to do this. But he wraps a towel around his younger brother’s shoulders and starts to cut off small bits of hair. He takes a step back, and nods to himself. At least his bangs aren’t as long as before, and then he offers the scissors to Thomas. 

 

_ I need a haircut too.  _ His eyes brighten, and Virgil sits down in place of Thomas, and he wraps the towels around his shoulders and waits patiently. Appearance… doesn’t really matter to him as much as it should, but he sits still as Thomas scurries around him. It’s not long until he stands back, hands on hips, a proud smile on his face as he says, “Done!” 

 

Virgil runs a hand through his hair, feeling the shortness in the back. He frowns slightly, before getting up and getting a mirror. Huh, Thomas just… took off the parts in the back that were starting to curl uncomfortably around his neck. He smiles. 

 

_ Good job.  _

 

He gets up, running a hand through his bangs, examining himself in the mirror. He tugs at a stand, staring at it. Well, his hair is shorter now, even if it is barely noticable. He stares at the reflection of himself, and brings his bangs in front of his eyes, noticing the bags underneath his eyes despite the amount of sleep he gets. Virgil frowns slightly, and continues to stare at his hair, when an idea pops into his mind. 

 

Virgil starts to leave, but glances back at Thomas, sitting quietly and watching the cartoons still. He pauses slightly, then taps on the door twice. He looks up, and Virgil smiles, tilting his head in a ‘follow me’ motion. His eyes brighten and he scrambles to get his shoes on, before running to him and grabbing his hand. 

 

Thomas hums happily as they walk through the streets of the city, still rather early. Well, Early for him at least, but not for Thomas. Virgil doesn’t call the shadows to hide them, knowing that a few people were sneaking looks and staring at his younger brother. A bolt of anxiety ripples through him when he spots the same couple, but they duck into a store as they pass by, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Really, he shouldn’t care, but he does. A part of him wonders if they’re supposed to run into each other so often, but he pushes the thought away. Virgil prefers to think that, at the very least, he can control his future. It’s easier than an alternative. 

 

Eventually, they go into a drugstore, and he lets Thomas roam the aisles of the candy while he pauses by the hair section. There’s a multitude of hair dyes for brunettes and blondes, and a few red ones too, but his eye catches on the colorful section. Boxes of blues, reds, and every other color imaginable sits on the shelves. He scans the boxes before reaching for a purple one, and going up to the counter, placing their things down. 

 

“Just this for y’all today?” The cashier says cheerifully, smacking her gum. Virgil nods, and she picks up the purple hair dye, examining it and then eyeing Virgil. “You’re gonna need a lightener for this sugar,” 

 

He blinks, then jostles Thomas to translate.  _ What do you mean?  _ Thomas repeats it back to the cashier, who blinks and smiles. 

 

“A bleach kit, sugar. Your hair is too dark for it this purple to take.” She points at the aisle again. “Ain’t anybody else in the store but us, so go on and take a look, I’ll hold your stuff here,” He hesitates, but goes to look anyways, glancing at the bleaching kits. 

 

On second thought, this looks a little bit too complicated for him, and he wants to leave immediately and never think of dying his hair again. But a part of him hesitates, so he grabs the closest one he can find, and brings it up to the counter. 

 

“Good one, my sister uses it for her hair as well. Have fun you two,” She adds as he pays her and they leave, and he turns back to smile back before walking. They walk hand in hand again, Thomas swinging their entwined hands and humming happily. It’s a rare occasion that Virgil lets Thomas out this often, and he can it’s improving his mood. It’s probably better for him as well, seeing as how being cooped up in a giant warehouse room with nothing but TV and books would probably drive anyone else insane. He just hopes that one day they won’t have to hide-

 

Lost in his train of thought he bumps into a man, losing a grip on Thomas as he falls backward. He grimaces when he lands on the hard concrete, staring up at the man in front of him. He’s wearing a rather dark outfit for such a warm day, the colors seemingly sinking in towards the man as if he’s trying to absorb. Which, isn’t that his job? 

 

He frowns at the man, standing up, who smiles apologetically towards him. “Terribly sorry about that, young one,” Virgil freezes up at the sound of the mans voice, his fists clenching at his side. “I do tend get lost in thought, do you as well?” 

 

Virgil gulps, taking a step backwards. He shakes his head, and just beyond the man he can Thomas, standing by the road and waiting for him. He turns his attention back to the man, finding it hard to remember the mans facial features. Were his eyes blue, or were they green? Neither? It starts to blur in his mind, making him dizzy. 

 

He finds himself agreeing with the man, a fog covering his brain. He chuckles, as if he finds Virgil’s slow movements (too slow, he needs to go faster, he can’t be slow-) amusing, and he moves to put a hand on his shoulder-

 

When a shadow  _ yanks _ his shoulder backwards and he blinks, the fog instantly dissipating. His brain clears, and for a moment, he sees the eyes of the man turn yellow and slitted, before he moves along, brushing past him. Virgil holds his head, a small pain inside of it blooming. Thomas walks over and takes the bag, and from their brief contact, he can feel the pain subsiding, and he gives him a grateful smile. 

 

“Adults are weird,” Thomas says with finality after a minute, and he lets out a small laugh, the tension in his chest releasing just slightly. He ruffles his hair up again, and they walk home.

 

* * *

 

Roman sits on the rough of the school, pouting slightly as Virgil walks up to him. He smiles when he approaches, and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at Roman’s costume. Somehow, he discovered that he could put pins and stickers on it, making him as flashy as possible. Which, as a result is annoying whenever they’re in the light. 

 

Maybe that’s what Princey’s goal is, annoy Virgil into submission and make him give up. At this point, it’s plausible, but he gestures for him to get up, turning his back and scanning the rooftops. The nights have been eerily silent lately, with only the occasional drunkard needing help getting home. 

 

“So what are we doing tonight?” Roman chirps as he gets up, stretching slightly. “More fighting practices? Maybe some parkour?” Virgil snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly. 

 

“Nope. I think it’s time for you to really test your skills.” A shadow appears next to him, making Roman jump slightly. Which. He should be used to, but he isn’t, but whatever. “The city has been quiet lately, and it makes me nervous.”

 

“Well,” Roman says after a moment, rummaging around in his bag to grab something, “Quiet is good, right? It means no trouble.” 

 

“It  _ means _ ,” Virgil turns to him staring at the mask in his hands. Even the shadow stops and sputters for a moment, before continuing. “That something big will be happening. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.  _ You _ need to be extra careful.” 

 

Roman puts on the mask, the elastic strap cheap and tiny. He resists the urge to groan when he realizes that it’s a  _ lion mask _ that looks so painfully homemade that it’s probably more of a hindrance than a help. Instead, he sighs loudly, and gestures at the mask, posing a question to him. 

 

“Hm? Oh, this! See, I figured if I want to keep  _ my _ identity hidden, then I should wear a mask! And since you keep calling me princey, I figured that since a lion represents royalty, then I should be a lion!” Roman gloats at his ‘brilliant’ plan, and Virgil rolls his eyes again. 

 

“We’re losing time, c’mon.” A shadow says to him before melting away. Virgil goes to the edges of the roof, looking over the buildings and the skylines. He spots a convenient fire escape, and takes a few steps backwards, takes one look at Roman, then starts to run forward. Instead of the cement wall hindering him, he simply leaps over it, his stomach dropping before the shadows push him towards the fire escape. He lads gracefully, and he hums slightly, turning towards Roman. 

 

He gapes at Virgil’s leap, and looks around, squinting. They’ve never actually practice parkouring around, yet, but Virgil has given him some insights on where to go and how to calculate landings. Really, it’s up to him to learn this by himself, a few scrapes and bruises-

 

Roman suddenly lights up in red as he takes a running leap, using the cement wall to leap forward, the red light pushing him forward. For a moment, there’s a look of glee on his face, but as he nears the fire escape (which Virgil dutifully steps aside) he fumbles, landing harshly on his feet next to him. 

 

“Well?” He looks at Virgil, a giant grin on his face. “How’d I do?” 

 

“Good enough,” One of the shadows says, and soon they’re climbing up the fire escape, and leaping from building to building. Virgil goes slowly, keeping an eye on Roman as he learns how to leap from edges and take falls a little more gracefully. 

 

His powers, unlike Virgil’s, seemingly augments his abilities, making him able to leap across distances and take landings that would make any other person’s legs scream from the impact. Or, Virgil thinks as Roman lands face first into a building, his knees buckling from the impact, just flatout make someone break their legs. Add that onto his normal strength and size, plus the fact that he’s able to use it defensively, and he’s a regular juggernaut. 

 

Roman lets out a yelp as he dangles from the edge of a particularly high building, just barely holding on. “Uh, a little help here!” He calls out, obviously keeping his head up so he doesn't look down. Virgil rolls his eyes,  walking over and kneeling next to him. Then, he gets into the same position as Roman. He manifests a shadow above them, ready to catch Roman if he falls. 

 

“Keep your eyes on me, and don’t think about falling,” The shadow says as Virgil stares at him, and Roman nods, gulping. 

 

“Right, right, don’t think about falling;what do I think about instead?” Roman looks at him frantically, his knuckles beginning to turn white. 

 

“Take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Focus your breathing. Any time I panicked, I ended up on the ground, so… don’t.” The shadow says, and Roman snorts slightly, sucking in a hasty breath and let it out slowly. 

 

Virgil positions his feet so that the toes of his shoes are scraping against the wall, his knees bent so that they’re parallel against the wall. Roman slowly copies him, his eyes never leaving his face. He crooks his elbows, watching Roman copy him as they slowly hoist themselves back onto the roof. 

 

Roman sucks in a breath, gasping for air. But before he has anytime to panic, he closes his eyes and counts slowly as he breathes in, and then breathes out. He looks up at Virgil, his stupid smile back in place. “Thanks! Probably should have taught me that sooner, honestly.” 

 

“And miss out on your voice cracking? No way, Princey.” Before he can protest, Virgil is off, and Roman follows him, more mindful of his landings and jumps now. He has to resist the urge to smile as he watches Roman get better as he slowly catches up to him, grinning at him whenever he catches Virgil’s glances. 

 

They run throughout the city, stopping a single mugging and watching over people trying to go home safely. The city is practically empty tonight, and as they rest atop some apartment building, he watches the Eastern sky start to turn a lighter shade of blue. Roman watches it too, staring at it in awe. 

 

“You know, I don’t think I mind this. I like watching the sunrise.” Roman says softly, sitting next to him. Virgil nods in agreement, but his neck prickles slightly. He tries to push it away, to shake it off, but  _ something  _ is happening-

 

A loud boom shakes their building, and car alarms go off as a cat yowls in the distance. Roman stands up the same time as Virgil does, his eyes staring at a cloud of smoke billowing up. It’s not too far away from them, only two blocks, but then he sees the flames lick up, and his anxiety screams in his chest. 

 

Roman moves towards the fire, but Virgil grabs his arm, shaking his head furiously as he tries to calm himself down. Roman’s eyes widen, but he yanks his arm away. “We have to do something,” His voice is practically pleading, but it makes him hesitate anyways. 

 

“It’s not our fight. There’s nothing we can do.” A shadow says, but Roman shakes his head, running off towards the fire. Virgil groans inwardly, and he casts his eyes towards the sunrise, before he stomps his foot in frustration. 

 

He follows Roman, a small grin on his face when he sees Virgil alongside him. But it quickly disappears as they get to the building, and his stomach sinks to his feet as he watches the firefighters trying to help people out of the building. But he knows there are more people in there, and for a moment, his arm burns as he sees the exact locations. 

 

He grabs his arm, rubbing it slightly. “Alright, I have a plan. We’ll create a bubble around us-” 

 

“No time for that,” Roman bursts out suddenly, taking a leap and landing through a window that doesn’t have any fire in it. Virgil follows him out of panic, and soon they’re going through the burning building, the heat building up as Roman goes downstairs and Virgil continues to go upstairs. 

 

He quickly finds a five year old girl, clutching a teddy bear close to her. Her big brown eyes widen in recognition as Virgil offers his hand, and he leads her to Roman, who’s escorting the others to the back parking lot. They exchange a look, and both of them nod as they continue on. At some point, he has to use his shadows, as weak as they were in the direct light and heat, to keep up the ceiling to lead a young woman to Roman. They stand in the middle of the flames, and somehow Virgil knows that it’s because of him that the flames aren’t spreading to the rest of the building. He gives a small smile, about to leave, when the ceiling groans. 

 

Virgil stares up at it, his anxiety making him push Roman out of the way as the ceiling collapses onto him, and for a moment, everything is dark. 

 

The world is dark for a while, with nothing to be heard or seen or felt, and it’s… almost peaceful. He wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while. But then there’s the sounds of someone talking, and someone’s pulling at him, picking him up, and somehow, the thought occurs to him. 

 

_ Not dead yet.  _

 

Feeling slowly creeps into his body as he’s set up against something, sitting upright. He lets out a small groan, trying to push away the harsh feelings in his chest and body. It feels so  _ burnt _ , so ashy and full of smoke that he wants to sink to the bottom of an ocean. Then, there’s a gentle hand pressing against his chest, and-

 

* * *

 

Roman watches as Mr. Sanders, his theater teacher, put a hand on his friend’s chest, a gentle blue glow surrounding him. For a moment, nothing happens, but then he lurches forward as if pushed by something, his eyes open as he gasps for breath. 

 

He lets the tears fall freely as he breaks away from Other Mr. Sanders side to fall next to Shadows, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly as he gasps for breath, and he sees Mr. Sanders frown slightly, but Roman knows what this is. 

 

“Breathe, Shadows, c’mon, breathe. Like me, okay? Just follow my breathing,” Roman gently guides his hand to his chest, holding it there as he takes in a deep breath, his chest expanding. He watches as his eyes soak in Roman’s figure, unharmed, and he follows along with his breathing, and he doesn’t move his hand until he’s sure that Shadow’s isn’t having a panic attack anymore. 

 

As he sits back, he watches as Other Mr. Sanders walks over, making Shadows jump and scramble to his feet. He presses himself against the wall of the other building, as if he could make himself any smaller than his lanky form would allow. 

 

Mr. Sanders stands up, keeping his hands where Shadows can see it, and Roman takes a step back. What is  _ happening? _ Do his teachers know him? Does  _ Shadows _ know who his teachers are? 

 

“Kiddo,” Mr. Sanders says, putting his hands up gently. “We just want to help.” 

 

Fear and anger flash through Shadows eyes as he shakes his head, and Roman sees him calling the buildings shadows to him, starting to swirl around his feet. 

 

“W-Wait, Shadows, I know these two!” He steps forward, making him flinch, and he feels bad for doing that, but he has to make him understand. “They’re good people, they’re my teachers, they know how to help-”

 

Shadows shakes his head again, and Roman watches in disbelief as the darkness takes his form before going back to their normal position. For a moment, the three of them just stand there, waiting for something to happen. 

 

Then, Other Mr. Sanders steps forward, clearing his throat. “Mr. Crown, I do believe you have a lot of explaining to do.” His voice, while firm, isn’t harsh, and he appreciates that he isn’t going to get yelled at. 

 

“Yeah,” His voice croaks, and he wipes away his tears, before turning to his teachers. “Yeah, I have a lot to tell you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep! Our favorite teachers finally get a word in to Virgil, and Roman cries. And the appearance of Deceit! Like the tags said they would!
> 
> As always, my tumblr is [logan-sanders-rambles](https://logan-sanders-rambles.tumblr.com/) if you want to either talk about this fic or yell at me about this fic! I promise I don't bite. 
> 
> Again, a very un-beta'd fic. Pleaaaaaaaaase point out any mistakes or typos you see!


	4. Old Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Virgil goes down memory lane, and Roman is alone.

Virgil stumbles into the warehouse from the window, almost falling but catching himself at the last minute. His vision and hearing tunnels slightly as he stands up, freezing in place as adrenaline courses through his body. He pauses, waiting for anything to make a sound. When he doesn’t hear anyone coming, he takes a small step forward. Still, nothing happens, and he eventually makes it to where Thomas is sleeping. He slowly lowers himself into the bed next to him, trying to force himself to  _ stop shaking _ it’s not that big of a deal, he needs to  _ calm down _ it’s okay nothing is going to hurt him he just needs to- _ stop-shaking.  _

 

_ “We just want to help.” _

 

He forces the words and voices down, squeezing his eyes and feeling his shakes get worse. Clenching his fist, he digs his nails into his palms, the slight pain offering a small grounding relief. He takes in a deep breath, and then lets it out slowly, counting like he saw Princey doing. He repeats this until his breath evens out, and he sits up. 

 

Except he’s not in the warehouse with Thomas. He’s five years old, in a small, dingy room. Light filters in through the dirty curtains, and he stands, mindful of the glass on the carpet against his bare feet. He moves silently and slowly, opening the door. He winces as it creaks open, and he looks down the hallway. The bathroom door is open, revealing a broken bathtub and a dirty sink and toilet, with a lady staring at him. 

 

“Virgil,” She slurs, the bottle in her hand glinting in the light. “Come here, baby.” 

 

Obediently, he moves forward, avoiding the shards of glass on the ground. He stops at the doorway, watching as the woman struggles to stand properly. She takes a long drink of whatever she’s drinking, and the smell of alcohol hits his nose. She walks forward, and leans down, staring him in the eye. 

 

“You definitely related to your papa,” She says, her hot breath blowing in his face. “Why you still here, huh? Why ain’tchya ran off like him?” She takes another drink, and he knows, he just knows, that if he moves or makes a sound, she’ll go off. 

 

She sneers when he doesn’t answer, throwing the bottle harshly against the wall. He winces slightly at the sound of the glass shattering, but he doesn’t move away. Even when the woman clenches her fist, even when he stares at it coming down to him-

 

He lets out a cry as he wakes up, jolting out of his sleep. He rubs at his eyes, feeling the tears flow freely down his face. A sob shakes his body and he doesn’t fight off the wave of sadness that flows with him. 

 

Thomas sits next to him, not saying anything, not moving. Just sits down next to him as he cries, clenching and unclenching his fists. The sensation grounds him, keeps him away from the static that rears its ugly head in him, and away from the dark memories from before. He can’t think about it. He can’t. It’s not a big deal. It happened and now it won’t happen again. Virgil sniffs, rubbing his eyes angrily as he stares at his lap. He scowls slightly, his sadness giving way to anger. He’s not sure at what, or why, but his anger hits him and he sucks in a breath, trying to calm down. 

 

“Virgil,” Thomas says quietly, “Are you okay?” 

 

He turns to look at him, and manages to keep his hands still enough to sign,  _ Yeah, I’m okay. Just had a nightmare.  _

 

Thomas tilts his head at him, “You haven’t had one in a while.” That… that’s true. In fact, when he dreams, he usually tells Thomas the details of it, because his dreams are so vivid. But tonight, Virgil had gone down memory lane, and he doesn’t want to revisit it. 

 

Instead of telling him this, Virgil signs.  _ I’m okay. Just a nightmare.  _ Then he gives him a smile, finally finding the strength to stand up and eat something. Even though the thought of eating makes him sick, he peels an orange and eats it. At least he’s safe here. At least no one else knows about this place. 

 

Virgil sighs, sitting down in front of the TV, and turns the news on. 

 

* * *

 

Roman stares at the TV in his teachers apartment, after calling Ms. Ludwig and apologizing for not being there for breakfast. 

 

It turns out, his teacher is pretty cool outside of school as well. He told Roman to call him ‘Patton’ a while ago, and now he sits in front of the TV, watching the news report play out. 

 

The news reporter, a young woman, smiles at the camera as the headlines play at the bottom of the screen in bold letters, and his stomach drops slightly. Besides the woman's head is a video from someone recording on their phone, and he catches a glimpse of him and Shadows jumping into the building. 

 

“The vigilante known as Shadows was reported at the scene of the fire with another person, and eye witness reports claim that they helped more people escape the fire until the building collapse. After that, two more appeared to rescue the other two vigilantes, and no one has seen them since this morning. The local sheriff's department wants to remind everyone that Shadows is wanted by the county and that interfering with crimes is an illegal activity.” 

 

The TV is abruptly turned off, and he looks down at this lap. He feels sick, and worried, and just overall bad in general. Shadows ran off before he could talk to him, and before that, his teachers had to rescue both of them from the burning building. Then the news reports that Shadows is criminal for  _ saving _ people, and that, that can’t be right. 

 

Roman stews in his anger for a moment, before Patton’s husband (Logan, he thinks?) puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, holding out a mug of tea. “You should drink this.” He says with clarity, before adding on, “It’s chamomile. It will help your nerves.” 

 

He takes the mug of tea obediently, taking a sip of it. Almost immediately, he feels his body relax from the tension and his anger slowly leaves the more he drinks it. Eventually he drains it, and gets up to put it in the sink, rinsing it out. Logan sits at the table, a notebook open and a pen in hand as he writes down in it. With nothing else to do, he sits down across from him. 

 

Logan looks up at him, and sighs. “Can you tell me how you came into contact with Shadows?” 

 

Roman blinks a few times, thinking. “Well, uh, I heard from someone that he’s almost always in alleyways, so I picked out a random one that was nearby and waited for a while? It must’ve been a week before he even showed up, and then, I uh, I spoke to him and tried to show off my powers, but I got carried away and burned him on accident-” 

 

“You were the one that gave him the burn on his arm?” Logan interrupts, quickly turning to a page and writing something down, before going back to his previous pages. Roman nods, and looks away, unable to look his teacher’s husband in the eye. 

 

“And then I uh, I figured out where he mostly started his, like, his patrols I guess you could call them? And he decided to give me, like, lessons and then he started teaching me, and it was really cool and helpful, but like, it always made my body sore and he didn’t like my outfits which were honestly so much cooler than his but he kept insisting I’d get hurt with mine-” 

 

“He’s got a point.” Logan stops him, closing his notebook and intertwining his hands together, closing his eyes. He falls silent, watching him with morbid curiosity. 

 

Patton enters the room, and takes a seat next to Logan, and Roman is suddenly reminded of the way parent-teacher conferences go, but instead of his parents undergoing the intense stares of his teacher, it’s him, and now he feels small. He shrinks back into his seat a little bit, crumbling slightly.

 

“Kiddo,” Patton starts out with a gentle voice. “There’s no need for you to be scared. We’re worried about him, just like you are.” 

 

He starts slightly, staring at Patton with wide eyes. He gives a smile, tilting his head slightly. “What, you think we don’t have our talents? I understand wanting to know more about yours,” He adds on, “But going directly to a vigilante isn’t the correct answer.” 

 

Roman deflates slightly. “I know, it’s just, at home I wasn’t really alone, and I couldn’t really practice on my own. And then I heard about him, and he just… looks so cool, and I thought that if I could do what he does, then maybe I could help other kids like me.” 

 

Patton smiles at that, and nods. “I understand, but don’t you think reaching out first would have helped? That’s what I did, and it landed me with Logan.” He nudges him slightly, Logan having not moved an inch the entire time Patton’s been in the room. 

 

“I-I tried,” He sits up suddenly, drumming his fingers on the table. “But nobody believed me, even when I showed them,” His voice cracks slightly, and he clears his throat, trying not to cry at the memories of the other kids pushing him down and kicking him. 

 

Patton falls silent at that, and stares at Logan, who breaks his concentration so suddenly that Roman jumps slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. 

 

“He’s protecting something,” He announces, opening his notebook and writing it down. “Someone rather close to him. He’s always seen alone, but when I ran into him the day after you met him, Roman, he looked like he was looking for something.” He continues to scribble furiously into the notebook, writing down the information like he’s going to lose it if he doesn’t. “He doesn’t speak, but he uses sign language. What’s the point of knowing a way to communicate if you don’t have anyone to talk to? So,” 

 

Logan turns the notebook towards Roman, and he reads the information, “You’re either the one he’s protecting,” Roman tries not to perk up at that, but he goes on, “Or he has someone important to him.” 

 

Silence falls onto them, and he tries to think. He didn’t know where Shadows lives, or really know  _ him _ at all. Other than that he’s 14 years old and has some cool bad-ass shadow based powers, and that he kinda enjoys Roman’s company. He frowns, trying to think. 

 

“Maybe a family member? A parent or a sibling?” Patton suggests. “I know you grew up with a lot of siblings Logan, what would they do if they were like Shadows?” 

 

Logan thinks for a moment, his mouth forming a line. “They would do everything to make sure no ones about me, and keep me hidden.”

 

Roman’s eyes widen, and then he blurts out, “What if I know a way to know that this is for sure?” He practically vibrates in his seat, his leg bouncing underneath the table. It had to work. It had to. He would make it work.

 

* * *

 

The stranger recalls the two older men and the other teenager, committing their faces to memory. He glances up at the tree in the park, sighing to himself. The more people involved, the more trouble it’s going to cause. Really, he just want Shadows, but evidently, others do as well. The teenager looks particularly fond of him, and, well. Only time will tell if he can use that against him. 

 

However, the men are definitely a problem. There’s no need for them to interfere, but he saw the way the slightly taller one stood, barking out orders to the teen and the other man. The smaller one was clearly one with powers as well, what good is a healer anyways? He needs a team of offensive players. 

 

He hums. This is turning out to be quite a pickle for him. But, like any other problems, he can get out of it. He holds his hand out, tendrils of a sickly yellow light weaving in between his fingers. Smiling softly, he focuses on making two more snakes. Nonvenomous, of course, but perhaps a scary enough pattern that it would make either of avoidant. 

 

And, just like that, if anyone were able to see, they would see a man with a scar on his face releasing two small copperheads into the park. 

 

Every problem has a solution. 

 

* * *

 

Virgil turns off the news, suddenly feeling nauseous as he stands up. Thomas stares at the screen in wonder, and looks up at him. Pacing, he worries his lip, feeling it split open and bleed. Whatever, that’s not a big deal right now. Maybe he can just… run away. Forget about being a vigilante and just be a pickpocket. But he stares around at the warehouse and his heart sinks at the thought of leaving it, and then a part of him reminds him of Thomas. It’s bad enough that Thomas isn’t in school, but moving away so suddenly? That would hurt him more than he can imagine.  

 

He whirls around, the rhythm of his feet hitting the concrete floors soothing away the static in his mind. 

 

Okay, okay. So maybe moving away isn’t a good option, and besides, leaving the city to Princey? That would spell disaster for him, and what if the two teachers followed him? They seem persistent enough. But if they keep on trying to mess with his life then he’ll have no choice but to move, and he doesn’t want to do that. 

 

There’s nothing he can do but wait. 

 

Virgil frowns at the thought, trying to think of a different solution. Okay, so maybe there isn’t one to this particular problem. But maybe… 

 

His eyes land on the box dye and bleach sitting on one of the tables, and an idea begins to form in his mind as he grabs it, grabbing a jug of water they use to wash up. He taps on the floor two times, and Thomas looks at him, and he smiles slightly.  _ Want to help me dye my hair?  _

 

Thomas nods and walks over, and reads out loud the instructions on the bleach packet to Virgil. He mixes the chemicals together, the smell making him wrinkle his nose in response. But he puts it all over his hair, mindful not to get it on his face or anywhere else. Then comes the purple hair dye, and he has to keep an eye on Thomas to make sure he doesn’t stain his face with it. 

 

Soon, he’s looking himself in the mirror and running his hands through his wet hair, staring at the purple sheen in his hair. He didn’t know it would be so obnoxiously bright, but seeing it in the mirror soothes his nerves, and he turns to Thomas, smiling.  _ I think I’m going to stay home tonight. Want to rent a movie? _

 

Thomas grins, and nods, running to get his shoes on. Virgil laughs, changing into a different set of clothes. 

 

The day is cooler this time, and as they walk, Virgil counts at least three trees with leaves that aren’t green anymore. Nothing has fallen onto the ground yet, but Thomas hums a song as he moves along, happily skipping. Virgil keeps his head down, his hands in his pockets as he subtly moves his hands to search for money. It never hurt to have a few extra dollars, really. Plus it always helps him out in the long run. 

 

Virgil keeps an eye out for a particular teenager, and sighs in relief when they reach the movie store without seeing him. He doesn’t want to be around anyone loud enough to make him jump, and besides, he would see Thomas, and who knows what would happen then? If anything, it would make him more persistent. 

 

The two walk into the store, and he hums happily to see it relatively empty, offering a small smile to the cashier at the desk. Thomas immediately goes for the animated movies, eyes focused as he reads the titles on the smooth disc covers. Virgil looks around the shelves, frowning at some of the title names and their covers. 

 

Something about the stillness of the store makes him nervous, and he keeps his eyes on the door as his little brother moves around the store to choose a movie. He wants to tell him to hurry, or to just leave and go to a different store, but he forces himself to stay put. Heart pounding in his chest, Thomas finally chooses two movies, and they go to the desk to rent them for a bit. 

 

The cashier smiles at Virgil as he pays them, and once they’re out, he sucks in a breath slowly, trying to ease his heart. Stupid anxiety. Nothing is going to happen to him in a movie store, and it’s not like he’ll always run into Princey’s teachers. 

 

Virgil lets out a sigh, and as they walk home, he keeps an eye out for any trouble. Of course, that means trouble came later. 

 

* * *

 

Roman smiles, spreading out his arms like he’s expecting a hug from Shadows. It’s been three days since the fire, and he’s been up there, patiently waiting to see if he would ever show up. He know he would eventually! It was just a matter of time. 

 

“Shadows! How are you? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” He greets him, but Shadows only narrows his eyes, glaring at Roman. “Don’t worry, I took care of the city while you were gone-”

 

“Go home, Roman.” One of his clones growls, and he has his back turned to Roman. Before he can interrupt, the shadow pushes him, almost making him fall on his ass. “You put yourself in danger the other day. You would have died if I weren’t there to take the damage for you,” 

 

His blood runs cold as he gets up, staring in bewilderment past the clone, directly at Shadows. His shoulders are hunched, and he won’t look Roman in the eye. His trenchcoat is covered in soot and burned in some places, and his hair looks messy and greasy. But even with the dim lighting, he can see the new purple shine of his hair.

 

“So? We make a great team, if I say so myself!” He proclaims, stepping forward and passing the shadow. A flicker of anger blows through him, and he clenches his fists as he walks towards him. “Besides, you would have just left them to die-”

 

_ “You don’t understand!”  _ Roman freezes in his tracks as Shadows turns around, anger flashing in his face. He’s still hunched over, his fists clenched by his side swirling in shadows. For a brief moment, he knows that if he wanted to, Shadows could very, very, very easily destroy him. He gulps.

 

“I,” Shadows points to himself, hands shaking slightly. “Almost  _ died _ because of you. Because we didn’t just leave it to the people who  _ do  _ know how to handle those sort of emergencies!” He shakes his head, clearly trying to reign in his anger. “You need to go home. You’ll die before you can help anyone.” 

 

Roman takes in the words, not fully processing them for a minute. But Shadows stares at him, and he finds himself drawn in towards his eyes, the scalera nearly glowing. The real color of his eyes could be anything in the darkness, but he sees the purple neon lights from the bar across the street reflected in them, and for a moment, they look like dark purple orbs of mystery. It takes him a minute to not step forward, but insteads, he meets his eyes. 

 

“No. You can’t stop me from doing this, Shadows.” 

 

Shadows, as if knowing that he would respond that way, simply shakes his head and turns away from him. “Then stay out of my way,” The shadows whisper to him as he runs and leaps to the next building. 

 

Roman stands there, and his hands fly to his pockets, the stiff cardstock feeling like lead in his hands as he takes it out. He stares at the bright orange pumpkins in his hands, and lets out a sigh. Fine, he wants to be difficult? Then he can be  _ twice  _ as difficult. He grips the cards tightly as he puts them into his pockets, going the opposite way of Shadows. 

 

As he runs across the rooftops of the city, he stops a few crimes that he’s had to take on since his little break. He didn’t even get to ask about that. Jeez, what is his problem? Maybe he has more of a hero complex than Roman does, and that would be saying something. Especially considering he is basically a prince. 

 

He stops two girls from a mugging, he feels the night begin to wear him down, and he gets up, stretching his neck slightly. He gives a smile from underneath his mask to the girls, and waves, turning around to leave. 

 

“W-Wait! Hold on just a second,” One of the girls steps forward, grabbing his arm lightly. 

 

He turns, staring at her. “What’s your name? Are you with Shadows?” 

 

The two questions make him blink in surprise, and he tries to come up with a name, stumbling upon one and saying it almost immediately. “Princey. I go by Princey.” Roman almost winces at the familiar tone of the nickname, but it’s the best he can come up with. He gives a straining smile to the girls, hoping that they won’t call him out on it. 

 

“Princey! You’re so cool,” One of the girls gushes, this one in a rather revealing dress. “You’re better than that Shadows dude, he’s like, so terrifying,” A whiff of the air confirms to him, that yes, these girls are indeed drunk and would probably need help going home. 

 

“He’s not all that bad. He saved my life in that fire the other day, afterall,” Coming to his defense is too easy for Roman, but the words leave his mouth before he can stop them, and he sighs slightly, offering an arm to the girl closest to him. “Now, let me escort your ladies home safely and we can talk there.”

 

The two girls squeal, each one taking a side and talking excitedly into his ears. For a few minutes, he tunes them out, trying to spot anymore suspicious activity. He earns a few glares from a few guys out on the streets, clearly drunk as well. Well, it looks like there’s nothing wrong with the city tonight. Unless Shadows is taking care of things discreetly. 

 

“So like… how do you even meet Shadows? He’s so mysterious,” The girl in the dress on his right asks, clinging to his arm. 

 

Roman chuckles slightly, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I’ve been sworn to keep it a secret, my lady.” Which just earns a pout from both of them, but soon enough, he’s answering questions, some of them which he doesn’t an answer to. But he fumbles through the questions as they walk through the streets, the sun starting to rise. 

 

Roman shakes his head, trying to focus on the two drunk girls voices as they call out, “Thank youuuu,” when they arrive at their apartments. 

 

He gives them both smiles, bowing and even kissing one of the other girls hands. “Why, it is simply my pleasure, ladies.” They both let out a squeal, and the girl in the dress rushes over to give him a kiss right as he’s about to jump onto their roof, and he almost doesn’t quite make it, stumbling a little to make the landing.

 

Once on top of the building, he touches his cheek, blushing slightly. That girl is way older than he is, and she kissed his cheek. Willingly. Roman smiles a little, humming a bit. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all. Screw what Shadows said, he’s going to keep doing this. 

 

But a quick look at the time on his watch and soon he’s off, running to his boarding house. He quietly goes into his room through the window, making sure to take off his shoes and hiding them underneath his bed. He lets out a sigh of relief when no one comes into his room, demanding to know where he’s been all night. Thank god it’s a weekend, which means sleeping in.

 

He barely changes into his pajamas before collapsing face first into his bed, knowing he’ll hear it from the other tenants in the house. Whatever, he’s tired and wants to sleep. But as he closes his eyes, Roman swears there’s a flash of darkness outside his window, like someone making sure he got home safely. Ha. As if. 

 

Sleep comes easy to Roman as he closes his eyes, feeling himself slip away. Thank goodness it’s a long weekend, he wouldn’t have been able to keep doing this if he didn’t have these kinds of weekends. A sigh escapes him right before he sleeps, and he thinks of the cardstock pumpkins. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweats nervously
> 
> It's only been, like, what? two months since an update? hahaha...
> 
> Sorry, life got in the way of my writing and I kinda stopped for a while. Also, sorry this one is so short! I promise next time will be a bigger update for everyone who's stuck around with this <3


	5. Uneasy Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drags self out of the dumpster fire that was November
> 
> sup dudes I'm sorry that this took sO LONG but I'm not abandoning it I just wanna give guys a good story and not the shit I come up with at 3 am
> 
> Hi david

Roman rests his head on his hand, elbow holding him up as he listens to his math teacher drone on about formulas and numbers. The classroom is filled with other kids taking notes, listening to music, or just not paying attention like he is. It’s practically silent as the students take notes, the weather filling up the classroom with a pleasant warmth as the autumn season continues on. Well, he’s trying to pay attention, but it’s easier said than done in his case. He feels his head dip down as his eyelids droop, and the bell startles him awake. 

 

With a blink, he realizes that his math class is over, and he rushes to pack up his books and notebooks, almost running to meet with his acting class. He ignores the way his body is aching and how his legs shake slightly when he pauses. Roman is fine, he’s just not used to all of the vigilante work. Especially the whole not sleeping thing, he doesn’t know how Shadows can do this. 

 

Well, Shadows doesn’t have school to think of. Roman does. 

 

With a sigh, he rushes into the locker, remembering just in time that they’re supposed to be in costume. With a groan, he shoves his bag and books into the locker, only grabbing his folder for the acting lines and a pencil in case they need to mark things down. Roman then proceeds to run to the auditorium, panting with his hands on his knees as he rushes into the changing rooms. 

 

“Roman!” Someone calls out, and he barely has any time to glance up at him as he gets swamped in a hug by a friend of his, wearing a bright orange beanie and a giant smile on their face. They pull back, ruffling his hair even though they know Roman hates that. “How’s it going buddy?”

 

“Hi Joan,” Roman offers up, stiffling back a yawn. “Almost fell asleep in math class, you know how it goes,” He lets out a dramatic sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder. “A genius such as me, in a low level class? Simply tragic,” 

 

“Tragic,” Joan echoes, rolling their eyes. “Says the one who asks me all the time for notes because  _ someone _ doesn’t pay attention in class,” 

 

Roman lets out another groan, as he sets his stuff down, eyeing Joan’s outfit warily. Shakespeare, while admittedly a good play, he’s so sick and tired of playing some lovesick puppy idiot on stage. If he got the main character, or the part that he wanted. Either way, Shakespeare is beginning to become, well, lame to him. 

 

Joan lets out a laugh again at Roman’s face, shaking his head. “This isn’t for school, it’s just something I felt like putting on-”

 

“Because Talyn’s in the costume department?” Roman finishes, the thought of the shorter non-binary pal coming back with at least a dozen costumes that would need repairs soon. 

 

“Well, that and-”

 

“JOAN!” A very long and drawn out cries come from behind them, and Roman finally spots the loose threads and the safety pins on his shirt, holding it together. For a moment, he imagines his friend walking around without a shirt on, and smirks slightly. 

 

Talyn appears, huffing and crossing their arms when they approach the duo. Despite being the shorter of the two, which really meant they were a full head shorter than both of them, they often have a fierce look about them that vaguely says, ‘if you insult me, I’ll roast you within an inch of your life before you can leave’. Which, in Roman’s observation, tends to happen alot in the tiny school. 

 

“You left right when I was taking measurements, so now I have to re-measure you and you won’t be excused by Mr. Sanders because you’re on the sound today-” Talyn starts, pointing an accusing finger in Joan’s face. 

 

Roman rolls his eyes, knowing that Mr. Sanders would let Joan off with a light slap on the wrist for the excuse, but Joan puts up their hands and laughs lightly. “Sorry Talyn, but Roman’s been falling asleep lately in all of his classes-”

 

“Have not!” Roman cries indignantly.

 

“So I have to check on him because we’re friends,” Joan finishes like they never heard Roman in the first place. 

 

Talyn’s eye widen and narrow, before whirling around to face Roman and for a minute, despite his powers, he feels a twinge of fear as she points a finger at him now. “Have you been getting any sleep at night?” 

 

Roman shrugs sheepishly, despite the tug at his body to lay down and close his eyes, and he can’t ignore the bruise on his shoulder from where a punk had gotten lucky. “I guess?” 

 

Joan and Talyn both cross their arms, and he sighs. 

 

“No, not really. I just… can’t sleep that much anymore,” Roman mumbles the last bit, the feeling of the lie settling uncomfortably in his stomach. Joan was his first friend at this school, and Talyn had just… sort of wormed her way into knowing him by being Joan’s datemate, and he has more friends, yes, but he also knows that he cares about them. 

 

“I’m giving you some of my melatonin after school today, and if you’re not by my locker I’m punching you in the face so hard that you’ll finally get some proper sleep,” Talyn says, before grabbing Joan’s arm and walking away with them. 

 

He lets out a breath that he’d been holding, and goes to move forward when a gentle hand sets itself onto his shoulder. He starts and turns around, facing Mr. Sanders.

 

“Hey there kiddo, you look pretty tired,” He says, his eyebrows furrowed together and his light blue eyes glancing over him to make sure he isn’t injured.

 

“Yeah,” Roman yawns, smiling a little. “Still trying to convince, uh, my friend to come over for a bit.” 

 

Mr. Sanders smiles at that a bit, the concern in his face wearing off a bit. “I’m sure it’s been difficult,” He doesn’t move to the classroom to call roll and to get the kids to stop playing songs on the piano, and his eyes still hold that sympathetic look that makes Roman’s stomach drop a bit. 

 

“Kiddo, I know this is, well, private, but… Your parents still haven’t called the school yet,” Patton explains slowly, like he’s trying to pick his words carefully, which probably is, because Roman tenses up and quickly scans the schedule for his family, finding nothing coming up. “And we still need to meet them,” 

 

Roman laughs it off, plastering on a smile even though he can feel his hands tremble slightly. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, they’re probably busy with my sisters, uh, dance recital in Italy! It’s really important to them,” Another lie, but Roman doesn’t feel bad about this one, but he hates how it rolls off of his tongue too easily.

 

Patton nods slowly, letting out a disappointed sigh. “I see. Well, if you can pass the message on, please tell them to call the school as soon as possible.” With that, they walk forwards into the classroom. Roman takes his place near the auditorium doors, listening to his teachers soothing voice. Like the rest of the school, there’s a pleasant warmth filling the classroom and the sun shines in through the windows in golden streaks. 

 

Blinking, he pushes himself up and tries to keep himself awake, but as he listens to Mr. Sanders and his classmates talking and taking notes, his body sags with exhaustion, and his eyes droop downward and he falls asleep. 

 

* * *

 

Patton knows that Roman must be tired, because despite somehow staying awake for his theater class in the past, he notices the teen’s even breathing and closed eyes. With a quick scan, he knows how stressed out Roman is, and the lack of sleep isn’t helping him with that. 

 

He continues on with his lesson, letting his class goof around a bit towards the end before the bell rings. “Have a good weekend kiddos! Stay safe!” A chorus of responses fill his ears, and as he turns back, he notices Talyn putting their jacket on Roman’s sleeping form while Joan walks up to him. 

 

He already knows what both of them are going to ask, and Patton gives them a reassuring smile. “I know, he seems pretty tired, huh?” 

 

Both students nod, and Joan speaks up, “You don’t think you could… let him sleep for a bit after school?” 

 

Patton lets out a small laugh. “Of course I will, he looks like he needs it,” He doesn’t add that he knows exactly what the teenager is doing and what’s keeping him up so late at night, which of course just makes him worry, and he figures that Roman doesn’t want his friends to worry. 

 

Joan and Talyn let out a sigh of relief, giving their teacher a smile that fills up Patton’s heart for his class again.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders!” Joan calls out as the two leave, and Patton smiles as they close the door. For a while, he just stands there, letting his smile fall away as he turns to Roman. 

 

He frowns slightly, wondering if Roman was taking care of himself properly. He knows about the bruise on his shoulder, and he also knows that more than once he’s come into school looking worse for wear. Compared to the start of the school year, when the young man had been so full of energy and excitement, pushing himself to do his very best in all of his classes. He still tries, of course, and Patton can see that, but it’s like there’s a weight on his shoulders now. It brings Roman down, making him tired and even slightly slow, and, well, it worries him. 

 

Patton sighs as he dims the lights in his room, letting the warm glow of his lamps fill the room in a dreamy atmosphere. He can’t help all of his students, even though he tries, but as he glances at Roman before he starts grading most of his work, he feels a surge of affection for the teen. Maybe it’s misplaced, but something about Roman, even before this whole Shadows ordeal started, made him look…

 

Look so  _ lonely _ . 

 

Someone as extroverted and loud and happy as Roman would have many friends in Patton’s experience of teaching in all kinds of schools. He’s the type of kid to lead others on adventures, coming up with ideas to get them into all kinds of trouble. Roman’s just the type of person to have this natural leadership and energy that seems to draw people to him, that make others want to listen in and follow him. Patton is willing to be that if Roman wanted to, he could persuade everyone else to do as he says. 

 

But Roman isn’t like that. He has two close friends, Joan and Talyn, and while he gets along with others in his class, he seems reserved when it comes to working in groups larger than what he’s used to. He’s in the spotlight most of the time, but he always looks like he’s expecting someone to stop him midway. He makes suggestions, but doesn’t like to bring himself to fully take on a project. That’s not to say he doesn’t do his fair share of work, but he seems to hold himself back. 

 

Patton’s heart aches for the kiddo. He doesn’t want to pry, and he knows that most teens are awkward when it comes to adults, especially teachers, asking about their home life. But he has a nagging suspicion that if Patton and Logan were to persuade the school to do a home visit, they wouldn’t find anything good. Whenever Patton follows his gut, he’s more often than not right, or at least very close to what he was feeling. 

 

He keeps an eye on the tired teenager as he works, glancing at the clock now and again. It’s almost time for Logan to come pick him up, and he only has a few more minutes of paperwork to do. With a sigh, he gets up to wake up Roman, but he sits up suddenly, blinking his eyes and yawning, glancing around. When his eyes finally land on Patton, he gives him a small smile. 

 

“How…” He yawns again, stretching this time as Talyn’s coat falls away. “How long was I out for?” He rubs at his eyes, blinking at his surroundings and trying to register what time it is. 

 

“The school is just about to close for the day,” Patton says, taking the jacket and draping it across his desk so that he can give it back to his student tomorrow. “You look like you needed some sleep, and your friends said you need it,” 

 

“Oh.” Roman stares at the clock behind him. “So… It’s about four?”

 

“About five minutes until we’re supposed to leave, so, yes,” Patton gathers up his supplies and paperwork, including the assignments for school. Tomorrow he’s with the first graders, and they’re always a handful to deal with, and he wants to make sure he has everything before he leaves for their class. 

 

A silence fills the space, thick and heavy with the feeling of homeliness and comfort. He really does try to take care of his students, and he wants to make sure that they’re never uncomfortable around him. After a minute or so of gathering his things, he notices Roman glancing at the bus schedule on his phone, and Patton pauses. 

 

“You know, Logan usually picks me up around this time. We can give you a ride home if you need it,” He says it gently and softly, something about the way Roman’s foot bounces underneath his desk or how he bites at his lip, almost drawing blood that makes Patton want to hug him and make sure he has a home. 

 

Inwardly, he frowns. Maybe a home visit  _ is _ in order for Roman. 

 

“Uh, sure, if that’s okay, Mr. Sanders-”

 

Patton waves him off, interrupting him. “Please kiddo, call me Patton or Pat, we’re technically outside of school anyways!” He says cheerily, trying to ignore the ache in his chest for Roman. 

 

Roman’s eyes widen at the comment, but he smiles, “Okay! So Mr. San-I mean, Patton, are you and Logan married? I know that’s a little personal to ask, but, I was just wondering and I thought it would be really cool-”

 

“Yes, we are married. We met in highschool, senior year.” Patton smiles fondly at the memory. “C’mon kiddo, get your stuff. Logan’s probably waiting for us in the parking lot.” 

 

Roman smiles and nods, walking along with him as they talk about theater and their favorite musicals, Roman moving his hands as he talks, like he can make everything appear if he tries hard enough. Patton smiles and laughs along with him, still feeling that ache in his heart. He wants to hug him and tell him that it will be alright, but there’s a time and a place for that. 

 

The school is empty, as teachers make their way towards their cars and as students from various afterschool programs leave their classrooms, a few calling out to Patton. Despite only having started at the school this year, the students and teachers have come to really like him, and it makes teaching that much easier on him. A few students even give him a hug before they leave, and Roman makes sure to smile and be polite to all of them. 

 

Like Patton said, Logan is waiting for them at the car, reading a book while he waits in the driver’s seat. Logan smiles and waves at Patton until he sees Roman, but his smile doesn’t falter, and Patton has to hold himself back from blurting out how he feels about Roman as he slides into the car as well. 

 

“I assume you need a ride, Roman?” Logan asks as the teenager sits in the backseat, looking out the window before nodding. 

 

“Yeah, sorry,” He says with a tint of red to his face, and Patton smiles. 

 

“It’s no problem kiddo! We live close to school, but we can always give you a ride if you need one!” He keeps his voice light and cheery, trying not to let his worry show for his student. Heck, he basically considers Roman his son at this point, especially since that morning when… 

 

Patton gulps, forcing that memory down. He had managed to keep a level head while healing the two teens, but after feeling how skinny and light Shadows was, he’s been thinking about that nonstop. The panicked look on his face when he saw Logan and him together, and he recalls how he was almost relieved that he left, because Patton could feel how scared the teen was. 

 

“So, I just wanted to ask something if it’s not too big of a deal?” Roman speaks up after a while, staring at Logan through the rear view mirror. Patton snaps out of his thoughts at Roman’s voice, and he tilts his head at the question, before Logan nods. 

 

“We’re still working on it but Logan’s managed to figure a few more things out about his powers!” Patton explains, fidgeting with the edges of his sweater. He doesn’t want to make Roman more stressed out than he probably already is, but if he asks about this then he won’t keep the information away from him. It won’t help, that’s for sure, but it will more than likely lead to him stressing out more. 

 

“Really?” Roman leans forward, and Logan sighs. The unspoken question hangs in the air for a bit until they get to a stoplight. 

 

“Yes, it seems as though he’s had practice with it since he was young. Tell me, Roman, how old were you when you noticed that you had yours?” Logan asks, eyeing him in the mirror as they wait. The weather outside is cold, the bite of winter in the air as the sky is grey with clouds, and most, if not all, of the trees losing their leaves in the strong gusts of wind. 

 

Roman thinks for a moment, frowning slightly before his face brightens up, “I jumped off of the railings in my moms house when I was nine!” 

 

Silence. 

 

Patton turns around, his eyes wide and mouth agape. “You did  _ what  _ now?” The idea of a tinier version of Roman balancing off of some rails and then jumping off scares him. Especially if he thinks what he thinks he means. 

 

“It was a dare!” He says quickly, a big smile on his face as his hands gesture. “My older brother told me that he would give me a hundred dollars if I jumped off and I really wanted to buy a new game for myself so I did!” 

 

Logan doesn’t say anything, glancing at Roman with concern in his eyes as Roman continues on. “So, it was from the second story and into the foyer, because it’s like, really big! So I managed to get on top of it, and I’m pretty sure my brother is about to pull me away from it so I freak out and jump!”

 

Patton sighs, running a hand over his face as he sits back down again. Logan clears his throat.

 

“You… are aware that jumping from that height would have broken both of your legs, right?” He gives Roman another look in the rear view mirror, and he smiles sheepishly, shrugging and spreading his hands as if to say  _ What can I say?  _

 

“But I didn’t! Because apparently to my brother I looked like a ball of fire!” His grin gets bigger, and Patton feels some of his worry melt away, until he hears, “Well, I did burn my shirt a little bit.”

 

Patton groans inwardly, shaking his head. “Kiddo, I bet you were a handful when you were little,” 

 

* * *

 

When Roman steps into the house, he can smell Ms. Ludwig’s cooking and feels his shoulders relax minutely as he glances into the living room, seeing all of the other residents in the boarding house. After making sure that his shoes are off, he clambers up the stairs as fast and as quietly as he can, feeling his textbooks weighing him down. 

 

When he gets to his room, he lets his backpack fall down with a small thud, falling onto his bed with a sigh. He glares at his backpack like it insulted his mother before he begrudgingly gets out his math homework, setting his textbook on his lap to use as a desk. Roman is down to his last regular pencil, and he lets out a sigh at how tiny the pencil has gotten over the last two months since school started. He’ll have to ask to borrow some during school tomorrow. 

 

Then Roman remembers that’s no school because it’s the weekend. 

 

While he likes the idea of sleeping in, he also knows that he’ll have to call his parents, asking them to please call the school. He doesn’t want his teachers, especially Mr. Sanders-Patton, to worry, because then he might get pulled back into that normal and dull private school he was forced to go to. With a shudder, he begins to work out the numbers. 

 

Hours pass by, and for the life of him, the numbers and letters of the problems have started to swim in front of him, and once he glances at the clock, he practically flies off of the bed. His textbook and homework fly to the floor as he gets to his stomach, reaching underneath his bed to get his costume. 

 

Once he’s fully in costume, he switches off the lights and puts a pillow underneath his blankets on his bed, just in case, before zooming off into the night. The stars are out, and the warm glow of the street lamps fills him with an adrenaline rush. 

 

As he pauses outside his window, he takes in a deep breath, calling out the warmth that lights up his body in a red glow that sparkles and cracks like fire before he jumps up onto the next rooftop, stumbling as he lands. He still needs to work on that, landing is really difficult when it comes to moving around the city. Roman’s amazed at how many people don’t look up before doing something stupid, because that’s how he likes to attack.

 

Make a dramatic entrance? Yeah he does, he lands on the ground (as gracefully as he can) and poses, grinning underneath his mask. 

 

Give the villain the chance to run away? Check, he wants to give people second chances since not everyone is truly an evil person.

 

If the villain doesn’t, he has to prepare for a fight. In any case, he can never,  _ ever _ predict what’s going to happen when he has to throw fists and dodge any hits from people. More often than not he goes back with enough bruises and scrapes that make him cry silently, but in the morning, they aren’t ever as bad as they were in the night. 

 

Tonight is quiet. 

 

Quiet is good, Roman decides, scanning the streets below the bar and occasionally glancing into the alleyways. Less fighting, and less people getting in trouble. It’s not always perfect, but it works for him, and he feels himself relax slightly. 

 

The red neon lights hit the rooftop as he glances at the time on his phone, the “mane” around his neck catching the light and bouncing it off of his kinda white not really white anymore dress shirt, and the lion mask itself doesn’t obscure his eyes entirely. He has a full view of the street, and he keeps an ear open to listen for any trouble, only hearing the occasional cat. 

 

Playing a few mindless games on his phone, he glances at the time again, internalizing a groan when he realizes only five minutes have passed by. Roman can feel his power buzzing in his veins, almost begging him to just move around a little bit, but something keeps him rooted to the rooftop of the dingy bar. It’s not like it’s even a good spot for stopping activity, but a little part of him whispers that he needs to stay, and damn if that doesn’t bother him. He wants to move, needs to move, otherwise Roman is going to go insane, and this is exactly why school sucks, because he’s not allowed to leave or move around in his normal classes and-

 

A hand lands on his shoulder and he nearly lets out a small shriek as he whirls around, the red energy from his power cackling to life around him as he prepares for a fight-

 

Only to be met by Shadows smirking face. 

 

“That’s not fair,” Roman whines, his power and adrenaline going away as he relaxes slightly, pocketing his phone as Shadows comes to stand next to him. Silence continues on he watches him study the streets and alleyways, supposedly looking for the same kind of trouble that Roman is looking for. 

 

“You got the same feeling, huh? I’ve been here for like, an hour and nothing has happened,” Roman states, sitting on the edge with his back facing the street, patting the space next to him, “may as well wait with me, right?”

 

Shadows eyes him, the red neon lights bringing out the purple in his hair. Roman takes a moment to try and see if he recognizes him anywhere, because he swears that he’s almost familiar enough to him that Roman swears he should know him. 

 

The worn and dirty trench coat covers most of his body, almost down to his knees with the sleeves having a few rips and tears at the ends, probably from a couple of fights. He doesn’t bother hiding his face from Roman anymore, from the few times they’ve seen each other. (Which makes him happy, but he’s not going to tell him that anytime soon.)

 

He’s still taller than he is, but he’s still skinny from the way his collar bones stick out, and he constantly slouches over, like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. His hair needs to be cut. Or rather, he needs a trim on his bangs, the hair falling over constantly on his face. His eyes are a dark brown that seemingly seems to turn all darkness towards him, but that doesn’t scare Roman. He thinks it’s cool. Like the void blinking at you. 

 

Shadows sighs, sitting down next to him and side eyeing him again, squinting slightly. If Roman didn’t know any better, he would say his eyes are almost purple, but then again, that could just be him. Shadows doesn’t say anything to him, and a nice quiet settles over them. 

 

It’s soothing, to be sitting next to another person, especially someone your age, who understands what it’s like to have powers. Not that he doesn’t appreciate Logan and Patton, he really does, but they’re teachers, and not his friends. 

 

Roman frowns slightly at the thought, but then he’s already made the decision. Shadows is his friend, and he will stay by his side. The thought is a little strong, but he grins when he goes to check the time again on his phone and feels the invitations. This would be the perfect time to give these to his friend, since both of them just chilling on top of a bar doesn’t happen often, especially on quiet nights where 

 

“Oh, hey! Since you’re here,” He pulls out the two pumpkin shaped cards, with tiny bats and spiders drawn on it. “You wanna come to my school dance? It’s on Halloween,”

 

He thrusts the cards into his hands before he can protest, and Roman smiles at him. “Besides, you can use your current costume to go! We’ll have free food and a lot of candy, plus there’s a place for little kids to go too! It’ll be fun,”

 

Shadows stares down at the cards, frowning. He puts them into his pockets, and Roman refrains from doing a small dance. He hasn’t said no, yet, and that’s a good thing! Maybe, just maybe, they’ll get to the bottom of this, and who knows? Maybe he’ll have another friend! 

 

Well, he already has him as a friend, but he’s sure that Joan and Talyn would love to meet him. Both of them already have an emo aesthetic going on and that fits in perfectly with Shadows already, and he’s sure that Talyn would want to fix his hair somehow. Or dye it. It goes either way with them. Joan would probably make him wear something more comfortable other than sweatpants and t-shirts. Roman can already imagine his friends all hanging out and listening to music and talking-

 

Shadows stands up abruptly, looking around. His fists are covered in shadows, ready to use them if he needs to. Roman copies him, glancing around and looking across the street, before grabbing one of his sleeves. 

 

“Look across the street,” He whispers, and once he looks, he spies a young child, probably not older than 10 years old holding onto an old and beaten stuffed dog plushie. From the way the street lamps reflect on the young boy’s face he can see tear streaks, and he moves to wipe his eyes, despite the fresh new cascade of tears falling. His clothes are dingy and dirty, a pink t-shirt with a unicorn on it, clearly meant for girls, hangs around his thighs, hiding his pants that have holes everywhere. Sandy brown hair reflects the yellow light of the street lamps and he can see a vague splash of freckles on his face.

 

He feels Shadows stiffen, and he turns, seeing his eyes blown wide enough to look saucers. He’s still, unmoving, even as the kid seemingly looks up at them and sniffs, before his eyes land on the opening of the bar. Roman can hear him suck in a breath, and the tension in the air is so thick that he swears he could slice through it with a knife. 

 

Roman frowns, pausing for once as both of them stand there, enmoving. Shadows hasn’t moved his hand away, and he stares at the kid. Something is wrong. A child wouldn’t be here, all alone, especially out at night, without something being wrong.

 

They study the child for a little longer, before he looks across the street, then right, then left, then right again. He takes a gulp, he can tell by the way his chest moves visibly from their view, and he walks to the curb of the sidewalk. 

 

And, just before Roman thinks that this can get any weirder, he feels Shadows calling darkness to them so quickly, and he realizes that he’s still hanging on, and soon they’re behind the kid, and Shadows moves forward, arm stretched out to grab at his t-shirt, dragging Roman along with. But the moment Shadows hand connects with the shirt, a yellow glow, sickly and bright, encompasses the little boy. 

 

For a moment, they stand there, and Roman can’t see his face, but he can tell that he’s shocked by the way he’s frozen too, staring at the light. 

 

Then, it starts to spin into a rope, and it coils around Shadows arm, and it manifests itself into a snake that doesn’t even look real. For a heartbeat, neither of them move, but then Shadows shakes the snake off, jumping back slightly when it darts out, biting him and sinking its fangs into the place between his thumb and forefinger. 

 

Shadows hisses slightly in pain, before he manages to grab the snake and throw it against the wall, and it disappears into tiny threads of yellow light that disappear like smoke into the night. Roman lets out a breath, his knuckles white from where he hasn’t let go of him as he moves forward, staring at the place where the child-snake-not-child-not-snake thing was just seconds before. 

 

He turns to Shadows when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, spying the little bite marks on his hand as he waves it frantically, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Small trickles of blood fall down his hand, and one it drips onto the pavement, Roman blinks.

 

“Oh jeez,” He says, unaware that he speaks as he starts to search. His hands dig into the pockets of his costume (bless Talyn for agreeing with him about pockets) as he takes a small step towards him. 

 

Shadows stares at him as he takes out the small box of bandaides, taking one out that’s designed for wrapping around fingers. “I don’t have, like, any antiseptic, wait, yes I do! Hold on,” He puts the box into his other hand as he finds the small bottle of peroxide taking it out. 

 

Roman feels his stomach drop slightly before he finds himself on top of the school roof, with Shadows sitting down with him. He’s silent, and the rooftop is dark, so he takes out his phone and turns on the flashlight, trying to hold all of the things they need in his hands. Gently, with his hands shaking, Shadows take the peroxide, opening the bottle while tears silently fall. 

 

He tips a small bit of it on his bite, and he clenches his jaw, a small noise of discomfort coming from the back of his throat. Roman watches it as it fizzes and bubbles, the hand starting to shake. He puts down the box and takes Shadows hand, steadying it. Without a word, he hands him the bottle as he pours another amount of it onto his hand, and this time Shadows does let out a small sound, choking back a sob as he shudders in pain. 

 

“I know, I know. It’s gonna hurt for a while, and if it keeps fizzing we have to keep pouring more on it,” Roman tries to soothe him, longing for Patton’s healing powers. He really has no idea what he’s doing, and from the way Shadows is handling it, it’s not good. He bites his lip, letting out a sigh of relief as the blood trickles to a stop, and the fizzing stop. 

 

Shadows is still shaking, and Roman holds his arm steady, murmuring soothing and calming words until he’s practically leaning into him, and he takes out the bandage, carefully wrapping it onto his hand. Roman takes out a small piece of cloth and wipes away as much as the blood as he can before he stops, staring at his hand. For a while, they stay like that while he gets his breathing under control. Shadows head is nestled into the crook of his neck, and he keeps his arms out, watching them like they’re going to disconnect and turn into snakes. After a while, Roman puts an arm around his shoulders, drawing him closer and Shadows doesn’t protest, letting him hold the other. 

 

Neither of them make a sound or move, even as a the night goes on. Roman watches the sky, staring up at the darkness and the twinkles of light from the stars. He can’t really see that many, because of the pollution, but he can fill it in with his mind, and he can feel Shadows slowly relax into him. With a sigh, the two stay that way. 

 

It’s not until he can see the sunrise that he notices that Shadows is pushing away, and he blinks his eyes, staring at his arm and sighing in relief when he doesn’t see any more bleeding. He stands up, yawning and stretching as he watches him the corner of his eye. A feeling of dread hasn’t left him since the night before, but neither of them speak a word as they leave, going in opposite directions. 

 

* * *

 

A man laughs as he sees where Shadows leaves, an abandoned warehouse near the bad side of town. It’s fitting for the young teen, and he lets out another slow chuckle as he recalls the look on his face when he had caused that illusion. Plus, he can feel himself growing stronger, he even managed to fool the other boy into seeing the other kid. 

 

He hums as he moves around the tiny apartment, almost completely barren of anything a normal person would need to live. Well, considering he isn’t normal, it’s understandable, but now he has to prepare. With a sigh, he cracks his neck. He still doesn’t have the other three under control, but then again, he can always solve that later. Right now, he has his priority in his sights. This will make it much easier to track down the vigilante and cause trouble for him. 

 

It’s too bad that the others keep meddling. Maybe he can do something to them as well, but it will prove useful to wait later. He has what he needs, and now…

 

The man laughs again, looking out the window. “Now the real fun begins,” 

 

Although, he wasn’t too happy about his snake being destroyed. It was meant to follow him around and keep an outside eye on him, but thankfully, Shadows was bitten before he had managed to attack it. Well, he shouldn’t have been able to, but fear was an interesting way to enhance his powers, even if he didn’t realize it. But for now, he would have to watch and observe. He has his plan, and his plan will work, even with those meddlers.

 

He can work with this. 

 

But he feels Shadows fall asleep, and he sighs, cracking his neck a bit. He’s used a lot of his own powers today, but now he can rest. Observation and notes, plan adjustments… He sighs. This was going to take a while, but that’s always the problem with the others, isn’t it? They want their revenge, their rewards, their everything to fall into place instantly and quickly. But that’s why he is the way he is- patience is a virture, not a vice. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright alright so I got a question about Thomas last chapter, so I just want to say this: he will probably be the least written character as I go on, because 1) I can't write children and 2) I like being *~mysterious~* 
> 
> But don't worry, just hold on until the end because I promise I won't have any plotholes, or at least very noticeable and glaring ones
> 
> Please follow me on Tumblr and talk to me there, I'm lonely, it's logan-sanders-rambles
> 
> bye david


	6. Approaching Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yeets this chapter to you* I UPDATED TWICE IN ONE MONTH THAT'S PRETTY HECKING GOOD-
> 
> Anyways, this was going to be a significantly longer chapter, but then I looked at the page count and my brain went "nope" so here it is! As always, my tumblr is [logan-sanders-rambles](https://logan-sanders-rambles.tumblr.com/) if you wanna yell at me!

He isn’t going.

 

Those are the first thoughts that stir Virgil fully awake, blinking up at the ceiling. For a moment, he doesn’t remember why he thought that, or how he’s awake. But after staring up at the high ceiling of the warehouse, it brings up his hand, staring at the bandaid. 

 

Oh, right. 

 

That… snake thing. He thinks it was a snake. 

 

Virgil frowns, the memories of last night somewhat hazy and out of reach. He remembers meeting up with Princey, because he had a bad feeling and he followed it, leading to…

 

A pain, mild yet persistent, breaks away at his head as he tries to remember, feeling the memories there but being unable to grasp them fully. Anxiety worms it way through his chest and stomach, and he gulps. His heart races, as he can only recall just meeting up with Roman and being hand the invites, but…

 

He stares at the bandaid, before sitting up and peeling it away, revealing two puncture marks. They look like fake vampire bites, but… they look deeper, somehow. He’s amazed that he hasn’t continued to bleed through it, but shakes off the thought. Virgil stares at the little bites, as if they were going to start talking and recalling his memories for him. He blinks, still looking at his hand before squinting. 

 

Yeah, that’s it. He’s gone bonkers. Totally crazy. Looks like he’ll be in the park, feeding the birds. 

 

Virgil lets out a groan, falling back into the nest of blankets. He doesn’t even remember getting back, let alone falling asleep. Is this something he should worry about? Will he have to worry about it? Why can’t he remember anything last night? He can feel the memories of both him and Roman investigating something, then a snake-but it wasn’t a snake at the same time, was it? It disappeared the moment Virgil grabbed it. But had the bite warranted a bandaid? And it wasn’t any of his own bandaids either, since the one on his hand had an obscene amount of Disney character faces. Did that make it Princey’s? Did Princey even bother to help him? 

 

So many questions, and so little time. Because when he looks at the clock, he stares at it. The clock seemed to be right, practically three in the afternoon, and typically he never slept in past noon. Or, heck, even past nine o’ clock most days. Was the bite that bad? How much pain was he in? Did he even fight anyone last night? He doesn’t have any bruises, but he still feels a tug of exhaustion and soreness to him, like he was fighting-

 

_ Maybe it doesn’t matter.  _

 

Virgil frowns. 

 

That… wasn’t usually what he thought. Maybe he just has amnesia, got hit really hard and concussed, and somehow managed to get home. But… He’s pretty sure Roman was with him, which means either Roman is hurt too, or somehow Roman wasn’t with him while he was fighting. But he’s never gotten amnesia before, and typically he avoids fighting, but Roman doesn’t, and if he fought someone then he’s probably hurt. If he’s hurt, then he needs help. And Roman-

 

Damn it. Roman is his friend. He won’t admit that to his face anytime soon, but the thought of him being hurt brings him back to the matter at hand. 

 

The anxiety from earlier makes his head buzz with static as his heart traces, pushing himself up and out of the bed. He pushes his shoes on, barely noticing that he isn’t wearing a hoodie before grabbing a plain purple one. He holds his hand out, readying himself to call upon the shadows, ready to shadow travel-

 

When it feels different. 

 

It feels-felt-like how someone would cannonball into a pool. But less so the part about falling, and more so the feeling of smooth water enveloping the body-comforting, cooling, and vaguely dimming the sense. It was comforting, at least for Virgil it was. 

 

But now, it feels the darkness nip at his heel, like an angry dog. A shot of panic shoots through him as he feels himself being enveloped by something suffocating, something that presses itself against his chest. The feeling of his senses shutting down heightens, and that just has the darkness squeeze against his chest even more. He opens his mouth to scream, but finds himself without a voice, without enough air in his chest-

 

And suddenly he’s tripping into an alleyway near the school, which is what he wants, but it’s not as smooth as it usually was. The pain in his head from earlier increases, and a shock of pain from the bite flows up his arm and he bites back a hiss of pain. He tries to level his breathing, trying to shake off the feeling that he just had. He still feels the pressure on his chest, and he grabs at his shirt, the cotton grounding him slightly. 

 

Okay, so… whatever happened to Virgil last night hindered his powers. Which isn’t good. Because he needs them to get home and to do everything else because without them he’s practically useless, and if he’s useless he won’t be able to help anyone out much less look after Thomas and, and if he can’t look after Thomas then he was the worst older brother in the world and needs to figure out what’s wrong with him  _ right now _ so that it doesn’t happen again-

 

_ Maybe it’s fine that my powers aren’t working.  _

 

Virgil almost misses the thought, how it just seemingly glides into his thought process like water. He freezes, noticing that he’s hunched over. His lungs can’t seem to hold in enough air and he forces himself to hold his mouth shut. He feels his body shake slightly, and while he’s had panic attacks before, this one feels… fake, almost. Like it’s not his fear, but someone else’s fear. 

 

Once Virgil calms down, he puts his hood up, shivering slightly at the cold autumn wind. The season is nice, and Virgil really likes the colors of the leaves, but those are all almost on the ground now. With a sigh, he walks towards the opening of the alleyway, waiting to catch the sight of Roman’s outfit, or hear his voice. 

 

The pain from his head slowly fades away to a minor headache, and he relaxes against the wall of the alleyway. It’s cloudy today. But the sun is out, and it’s nice, despite the cold wind that bites at him and his thin clothes. But, with all of that, his shoulder burns where his scar is, and he rubs at it. That memory pushes itself to the surface, but he forces it to the back of his mind, trying to think of anything else that should have happened last night. Obviously, he managed to get home, and he fell asleep, he just doesn’t remember the rest of the night. Did he and Princey hang out? Was he hurt?

 

Virgil hopes, that for whatever it’s worth to the universe, that he isn’t. 

 

He remembers being bitten. Beyond that, nothing much else. He vaguely recalls hearing Roman’s words that managed to calm him down, but he doesn’t remember what he said or even  _ why _ he would say it. Without realizing it, he notices his fingers digging into the palms of his hands. He takes in a deep breath. Okay. It’s okay. He can ask Roman what happened. 

 

And, speak of the devil, it seems that he spotted him, because with a start, he doesn’t even realize that he hasn’t had his shadows up since he’s gotten here. 

 

Roman jogs over, eyebrows furrowed together to look over Virgil once. “What are you doing here-”

 

Virgil shakes his head, gesturing to the alleyway. Roman seems confused for a moment before he steps into it. After doing that, he scans him, once, twice, before his shoulders slump. There’s no visible bruising, and he was able to lightly jog over him. There’s no bags under his eyes, no slump in his shoulders from exhaustion or pain. Which is good. Roman is okay, and that means something did happen last night, primarily to Virgil. 

 

They stare at each other in silence for a while, until Roman glances at his hand. “How does it feel?” He doesn’t reach for it, his hands twitching to move before Virgil shakes his head. He can’t explain how he doesn’t remember how he got it, and he doesn’t want to make a shadow clone right now. It would… it wouldn’t be good. Shadow travelling was bad enough, and he doesn’t even feel the shadows anymore. 

 

So, slowly, he tries to sign to Roman. He does it slowly, mouthing the words like how Alex taught him, and Roman blinks. He stares at Virgil’s hands, eyebrows furrowed together as he tries to make out what he’s saying. It’s not for the lack of trying that he doesn’t understand him, but more so for the lack of understanding sign language. 

 

Virgil goes slow, slow enough to make his frustration peak as he throws his hands up and scowls, trying to come up with another way. It was so easy before, since people rarely knew sign language he didn’t talk to them. Or, if he was with Thomas, at least he knew sign language. Tears prick the corners of his eyes and he takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Communication with Roman was easy too, since he has the shadow clones to speak for him. Well, he did anyways. 

 

Roman studies him, and Virgil squirms slightly under the pressure. Then he gasps, slamming his backpack onto the ground and pulling out a notebook and pencil. “If you can’t talk, you can write!”

 

He stares at the pen. It’s a glitter pen, the kind he used to see Dahlia use. For a moment, he’s tinier, back at the foster home. He hears talking, but doesn’t comprehend any of it as he watches the three men sign papers and smile at him. He feels anger and fear churn in his chest as the last one signs it, Dahlia turning him to smile. It falters once she sees Virgil’s angry tears-

 

“Hello? Earth to Shadows?” Roman waves a hand in front of his face and he flinches, still staring at the pen. God damn it, that’s such bad timing for a flashback. He bites his lips, his eyes never leaving the pen but he makes no move to grab it. 

 

“You… can write, right?” Roman ventures, studying him. 

 

With a deep breath, he nods, taking the pen and notebook, slowly writing. It feels like a foreign weight to him, not really comfortable with the way it digs into his palms. But he writes, in big, shakey letters, his question:  _ what happened last night? _

 

He hands him the notebook and pen harshly, trying to hide his hands shaking, but soon tremors travel up and down his body. He’s never been so  _ scared _ at an answer before, and he doesn’t want it to be bad. 

 

Roman lets out a small gasp, staring up at him as he drops the pen and notebook. “You… you really don’t remember?” 

 

Virgil nods, letting out a tiny breath that’s wavers. Even if he could talk, even if he  _ wanted _ to talk right now, he imagines that it would only make him shake and sob even more. His entire body shakes, the memories fuzzy and out of reach, making Virgil’s anxiety take over his body. He can’t even subtly feel his powers anymore, and he’s scared. It’s always been there, but now he can’t even feel the darkness in the shadows, and even if he could, he has no doubt in his mind that he would be afraid of it. He’s never even been scared of his powers before, but now, if he tries to reach out, tries to even shadow travel or hide himself, it would go terrible. 

 

Roman reaches forward slowly and gently puts a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, I’ll tell you, okay? We can figure this out together,” He adds on gently, and Virgil leans into him, making Roman give him an awkward half shoulder hug.

 

It’s then, and only then, that tears fall from his face, and Roman shifts that he’s holding him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. Roman is… stocky. Broad chested and warm, and Virgil all but clings to him because at least he’s  _ real  _ and  _ here _ and not scary. He silently sobs into Roman’s uncomfortable school shirt. Even if he’ll be embarrassed by this later on, he doesn’t care. 

 

After a while, Virgil removes himself, and Roman leads him to a park nearby. He recognizes it as the one Thomas played in, and he sits down a bench, not too far from the playground. Roman doesn’t say anything, but he glances at Virgil every so often, as if he’ll fall apart if not kept an eye on. Well, that’s partially true. For the first time since he ran away, he feels helpless and out of ideas, like a tiny kitten whose ears and eyes haven’t opened yet. 

 

He frowns slightly. That’s a weird analogy, but… yeah, it works. 

 

“So…” Roman’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, making him start a little. “You… really don’t remember what happened last night?” After he shakes his head, Roman sighs, leans back slightly before starting with his end of the story. Virgil listens intently, nodding when Roman asks him if he came to the same bar as he did because of a bad feeling. But, it’s never just a feeling for Virgil. It’s like the darkness pulls him towards places, and he always follows because it’s where trouble usually is. 

 

“Then… there was a kid across the street. He looked… lost. And scared, and he was hugging this dog plushie, it was a tiny and kinda worn out. He was wearing a pink shirt with like, a unicorn on it?” Roman studies Virgil’s face, while he tries to keep himself passive and stoic to Roman. 

 

But, he’s describing the shirt that Thomas came in, when he first arrived. When he doesn’t get a response, Roman continues, and Virgil feels the same pain in his head as he continues telling the story. 

 

“So, you were kinda freaked out, right? And then he was about to cross the street, when you suddenly just teleported there-” Shadow traveled, but okay Princey. “And grabbed him. You… looked really concerned,” He adds on in a quiet voice. He’s curious. 

 

Virgil doesn’t blame him for being curious, of course. If their roles were swapped, then he knows for certain he would be concerned and curious. Although, Virgil muses, it wouldn’t be for the same reasons. Whereas Roman’s concern comes out of a place where he doesn’t know what’s happening and wants to help, Virgil’s would come from a place of knowing what’s going to happen if Princey continued along with doing… dumb, reckless things. 

 

Roman clears his throat, and Virgil stares at him before he’s handed the notebook and this time, a pencil. And Virgil, ever so slowly, has to write out what he remembers. His hand cramps up, and it sucks, and his handwriting is barely legible. It takes a painstakingly long time for him write out what happened to him when he tried to find Roman, and leaves out the part where he was actually worried about him because he definitely doesn’t need to know that. Princey has a big enough head as is, and if it’s inflated anymore he might fly away. 

 

Once he hands over the notebook, he worries his lip, feeling it split when he bites down too hard on it. He doesn’t worry about it, instead thinking about-

 

God.  _ Thomas.  _

 

How was he going to help him? Thomas can’t be left alone for too long, he’s still only just a child, but if he doesn’t have his powers, then that means his little brother is going to have to take care of some things that Virgil usually does, but… He takes in a deep breath, the shakiness of it making Roman look over at him. But he doesn’t say anything, continuing to bite his lip. Thomas  _ needs  _ him. He’s always looked up to Virgil, and if he lets him down now, right when he needs him the most, right when  _ the city  _ needs him the most… Anxiety settles into the pit of his stomach and he can feel his throat tighten at the prospect, and he clenches his fists against his hoodie. He can’t. He can’t let that happen, because if that happens, then he’ll be a failure. He’ll have let down not just Thomas, but Princey and the city, and he… He won’t be able to stand that. He’ll hate himself even more. He has to find a solution to this, because he knows that there’s a solution to this. There hasn’t always been a straightforward answer to all of his problems, but if could just find one-

 

“You bite down on your lip anymore, you’ll go right through it.” A voice, an very fucking familiar voice breaks up his chain of thoughts, and the teacher is there. Again. He stares down at Virgil, still in his, what he assumes, school outfit. 

 

Virgil shrinks back from his gaze, trying not to stare too intently at the teacher. He still feels like he’s trying to figure him out, like a puzzle but all of the pieces look the same. He tries to remember his name, and it suddenly pops into his head like a bubble. Right, Logan. The more serious one of the married duo. With the sun behind, his dark blue eyes almost shine in the shadows, which just makes his anxiety worse. 

 

“Mr. Sand-I mean, Logan! How did you-?”

 

“Truth be told, Roman,” Logan turns to him raising an eyebrow, “I know I look rather pale and nerdy, but Patton does occasionally drag me outside,” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes twinkle with a spark of… fondness, for the young teen. 

 

Roman smiles at the joke, and Virgil feels like an awkward spectator witnessing something that he’s obviously not a part of. He feels himself tug at the darkness, but it doesn’t come, like an disobedient pet. 

 

“So, where’s Patton?” Roman’s voice once again interrupts his thoughts, and Virgil watches both of them, feeling his anxiety spread to his chest. Please, don’t let both of them be here, because then he’ll be double screwed and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want either of those teachers to be here, and he doesn’t want help. He’s fine. He’s fine, or he will be fine, because Virgil does just fine on his own. 

 

“He went to buy more cookies. Are you coming to the dance?” Logan changes the subject a little too quickly, and Virgil finds himself searching for the other man. He doesn’t spot him, and he looks behind himself quickly, only spotting two bushes-

 

And the glint of what looks like bright yellow scales-

 

His eyes widen as he watches the snake, large and long, too big to be mistaken for a simple garter snake, sail past his head-

 

Right towards Logan-

 

He watches as a hand dashes out, anxiety and fear in his head screaming, yelling at him that he has to  _ make sure the snake doesn’t bite him _ and wraps itself around the snakes neck, and squeezing tightly, feeling the cool scales against his hand as he squeezes and squeezes, until it pops. 

 

Popping is the wrong word. It’s more like the snake, its mouth open and fangs out for all three of them to see, stills in Virgil’s hand, before it disappears in into tendrils of yellow light. Except, unlike last time, it doesn’t form into something different. They float for a moment, like they’re searching for something, before fading away into the afternoon light. 

 

Virgil stares at where the snake had been, his hand closed into a fist without it. His nails, jagged and overgrown, bite into his palm as he just stares at it, before he shift his gaze to Logan. 

 

Logan, who stares at him in a mixture of shock and… not fear, but concern. His eyes, no longer looking like they were glowing and intimidating, are softened by the sunlight hitting them, and he just… stares at Virgil’s hand. Until, with a slow hand and making sure he stays in his eyesight, he lifts a hand. 

 

Virgil doesn’t move, barely breathing as he lands his hand onto his fist, smooth and warm, unlike the feeling of the snake. With a soft voice, he says, “Thank you, young man.” 

 

For a split second, nothing happens. Then, when Virgil glances up from his hand, he stares into his eyes, the glow back for a second before the entirety of last night springs forward into his mind. 

 

It comes with a searing pain that feels like he’s mentally breaking through a wall, and the pieces fall into the missing points in his memory-seeing Thomas, being bitten and the pain that came with it, teleporting himself and Roman, Roman, helping him,  _ comforting him _ until he had left. 

 

Virgil yanks his hand away, staring in shock at where the previous snake bite had been. Now, it’s the same color as Logan’s eyes, glowing for a second before disappearing into his skin to reveal tiny dots, almost small enough that he has to squint to see them. They just look like regular moles on his skin, if you didn’t know better. The dull pain from trying to remember earlier fades away, and his… thinking is clearer, better now. He didn’t notice it before, but it was like someone was pressing down into his thoughts, trying to grab his mind and forcing him to think certain ways. 

 

But it’s gone now. 

 

He has no idea how it happened, or why it happened or what happened, but the glow from Logan’s eyes fades away and he feels his chest constrict, closing up on him. He sees Logan, he sees Roman, but he doesn’t truly  _ see _ them. Their voices sound like they’re underwater, or like he’s underwater, and he can feel the darkness lapping up at him, like beach waves. The familiar static forms in his mind as he sucks in a breath, then lets it out quickly. Shadows pull towards him, swirling around his feet, but to anyone else it just looks like a young teenager having a panic attack. Which, Virgil most certainly is, but right now all he focuses on is the darkness, willing it towards him like the moon wills the waves to come closer to earth. He can feel it, cool and soothing again, and there’s almost a smile on his face-

 

When he feels his gut being pulled into the shadows, and he lets out a small yelp as he feels himself engulfed into the dulling darkness before popping out in front of a beam. He barely registers it before he falls backwards, staring up at the warehouse. The afternoon light comes in through the windows, and the dust that he disturbs floats up in the air, dancing and falling in the sun beams. 

 

Virgil looks around, letting out a cough before getting up and attempting to dust off his hoodie. He barely takes a step forward when Thomas shoots out like a beam of light, tightly hugging his torso. He pushes his face into his hoodie, and he gently places his arms around him as he feels his little brother shake. Thomas sniffs, looking up at him with big, giant tears in his eyes. 

 

“Nightmares,” Thomas whispers, his voice raspy and shaky from crying, and Virgil kneels down, tightly hugging him and bringing him close. He lets out a full sob then, and he doesn’t question what his nightmares are about. He gets similar ones, and he knows that talking about them, sometimes, only makes them worse than what they already are. There will be times when Thomas, like Virgil, won’t speak, won’t even bring his hands up to sign. Those are the days that he stays up, waiting, and those are the days Virgil spends both the day and night home, because more often than not, Thomas had a nightmare and doesn’t want to be alone. 

 

Besides, Thomas doesn’t need to tell him what his nightmares are about. There’s a reason they’re both unwanted. 

 

* * *

 

Logan stares at the place where Shadows had just been, before having disappeared right before his eyes. It wasn’t like his normal shadow traveling skills, it looked like someone put a rope around his waist and yanked him back, like he was being summoned. 

 

Then, there was that…  _ incident _ with the snake. Truth be told, he didn’t see it as a snake, more so a coil of sickly yellow light that was lunging for him. He didn’t even see the ‘snake’ until Shadows had grabbed it, and suddenly it was a rather large King Cobra that was more than ready to bite his nose. The large cowl and fangs were definitely unnatural, and he feels grateful that he had caught it in time. 

 

Of course, he said thank you, taking a risk and somehow knowing that Shadows wouldn’t bolt or try to fight him when he landed his hand on his shaking fist. However, what he wasn’t expecting were his powers activating, and he saw, very briefly, into Shadows mind. It wasn’t dark and gloomy. It was… soothing, like being at an oceanside, or gently gliding through water. But of course, Logan has a feeling if he goes into the deeper depths, then he might uncover the truth. 

 

Then, just like he had briefly been able to take a peek inside, he felt something… not shiny, but unbelievably bright shove him away, and he had just long enough to notice what was going on with Shadows. He hadn’t had his usual glamour up to shield himself from being seen, and instead, all of the shadows in the park seemed to lap up at his feet, like beach waves. Until it looks like someone dragged him in, of course. 

 

“Fascinating,” Logan mutters, looking down at the spot, seeing no disturbance. He turns to Roman, mouth open to ask him a question when he stops. 

 

Roman is staring at where Shadows had been, with his eyes wide as saucers. He points numbly at the spot, mouth opening and shutting. He’s shaking slightly, obviously trying to hide his tremble from the fear that’s radiating off of him. 

 

Logan immediately abandons the question, instead moving swiftly forward and activating his powers, just a little bit, to get Roman to calm down. Fear, while good in many situations, is often detrimental to people whose flight or fight response kicks in too many times or at unwanted moments. While he doesn’t suspect Roman has this anxiety, no one is immune to it, especially when confronted with an event like now. He won’t bombard him with questions. It would only make things worse, and he doesn’t want to make Roman spiral any further into an anxiety attack than he already is. While his powers will give him a small amount of clarity, if he only does a small amount, then it will help the pupil process everything. 

 

He gently places an arm down on his shoulder, and Roman snaps to look up at him, his eyes searching for something. Then, it clicks in his head, and he feels the young students body tremble before speaking. 

 

“He-he got bit, last night,” Roman says, his voice wavering a little bit, “By… By a snake that disappeared just like that, except, except it wasn’t a snake, it was a little kid at first, and, and I don’t know if he remembers or if he, i-if he just…” He makes a poofing motion with his hand, and Logan nods in understanding, letting himself let out a little sigh. 

 

“I see,” Logan says, keeping his face impassive and voice clear of any judgement. Besides, he knows that he’s not lying to him, one of the many side effects that he discovered about his powers. But, even if he was, he wouldn’t judge him. Clearly, he’s still scared, granted without the anxiety attack now. He can feel Roman’s fear slowly go away as the boy takes in deep breaths, before clearing his throat and sniffing slightly. 

 

“Someone’s after us,” Roman says, almost too quiet for him to hear. 

 

“No,” Logan says after thinking for a moment, “someone else is interested in Shadows. But with ill intent.” He doesn’t bother explaining, before pulling Roman in close to him and walking towards the bakery. “I think you should stay with us for the day. We’ll drop you off later tonight, but I don’t want you going out,” 

 

“But-”

 

“No buts,” He cuts in quickly, guiding the young teen to Patton, who’s still wearing a ridiculous sweater in this weather. It’s not even cold enough for hot chocolate. “I don’t want whoever this is to be hurting you as well, especially if they’re coming after us.” 

 

Patton spots them quickly enough from their car, and he nearly jogs out to him, and instead of hugging Logan like usually, he practically lifts up Roman and squeezes the breath out of him. 

 

“Oh, kiddo…” Patton sighs, carding his fingers through Roman’s hair before pushing him back, studying him with a compassionate face. “I don’t know what exactly happened, but we can talk about it later.” 

 

“But I-”

 

“No buts, kiddo! You need some TLC, and you need to not be alone,” Patton scolds him, ushering him into the car. Logan catches his eye and they both nod before getting into the car. 

 

Sometimes, they encounter students who need… help, outside of school. Whether it be family issues, or just general teen angst, there’s always a student they take under their wing for a while, just to try and help them. Sometimes that help comes in the form of giving out their personal number and letting them know they’ll come at any hour. Sometimes, it’s to show them that things are not always as they seem, and other times… there’s cases like Roman’s. 

 

When they have a kid like Roman, they have to keep a close eye on them. Not for any specific reason, but for a multitude of reasons that they do. Some of these cases are wild and unpredictable, which is exactly why they usually keep an eye on their kids. Sometimes, situations occur and can happen at any minute, and while they’re not usually so upfront about it, Roman is a special case. Special in the fact that he has powers, he’s close to the kid that they’re trying to help, and special in the fact that he’s strong.

 

But more in the case that he’s special because he’s still just a  _ kid.  _

 

Distantly, Logan thinks that maybe it’s time for a home visit for Roman. Or, at the very least, a call. 

 

* * *

 

Okay. His teachers are… acting weird. But a good type of weird. They’re worried about him, and now that he’s sitting at the table eating the dinner that Logan made, Roman knows that he was right about him not needing to be alone. Being around these two calmed him down, both of them providing enough idle chatter to keep him busy. It helps him sort through what happened at the park, even as he occasionally feels a pit of dread settle into his stomach. But he’s managed to sort his feelings out into three different thought processes. 

 

The first one being that a snake had almost attacked his teacher. A snake. A literal snake that was bigger and longer than the snake from last night, and one that would have easily taken him down. Then, it had disappeared, like the Snake-Child that had bit Shadows last night. 

 

Secondly, Shadows not having his powers for an unknown amount of time, yet clearly having gotten them after Logan had… used his powers on him? Maybe? He hasn’t gotten a chance to ask him yet, but he will. But why would Shadows not have his powers? Was it because of the snake bite, or because of something else?  _ Someone  _ else? But now he has his powers back, at least Roman thinks so. 

 

Speaking of his powers, it was weird to watch how his own shadow just… moved towards Shadows. Roman’s seen it in action, of course, but only vaguely in the dark or out of the corner of his eyes. It was always controlled, like a weapon or a tool, and it almost never acted on its own. Even when Roman did feel the actual darkness, it wasn’t ever scary or wild-it was like dipping his own fingers into a pool of calm water, and feeling the ripples pass through it. It was soothing. But the darkness at the park? That was like watching a stormy ocean, the waves pulling and crashing onto the shore, threatening to capsize anyone if they dared touch it. 

 

Roman pokes at his food when Logan gently places his hand on his shoulder. “We should get you home, Roman,”

 

With a sigh and a nod, he gets up, grabbing his plates and bringing them to the sink. Patton disappeared into the study, needing to come up with a test for the little kids tomorrow. He had winked at Roman and said that maybe there would be a pop quiz in theater next week before he had left, and he wants to say goodbye to him. But Logan gets his coat on, and he steals a look at the door before following Logan down the stairs and to the car. 

 

A feeling of… not tension, but something that feels like an anticipated question fills the car once Roman buckles into the front seat, and he braces himself. Please let it be an easy question. He doesn’t feel like talking about his family, or about himself, or about his siblings or anything. He doesn’t want to talk about it because it always,  _ always,  _ ended up with the same round of questions from the person asking them. 

 

So, Roman did something he had learned from Joan when he had first met them;he plugged in his pair of headphones, clicked on a random playlist, and pretended to not be busy freaking out or hoping that Logan wouldn’t question him. It ended up proving effective as they drove around, almost to the other side of the town. The streetlights came on, and soon people filled the streets, busy trying to go home after working. Roman watches all of the different types of people walking around. He stares at a family in particular, both of the parents holding a little girl’s hand as they walked, all three of them talking and laughing. He doesn’t get to stare for very long though as Logan drives away, and he has to push away a familiar ache in his chest. 

 

As they stop in front of Mrs. Ludwig’s house, Roman lingers for a moment, turning his music off and pulling out his headphones. He musters up a smile, about to open his mouth to thank him, when Logan puts a firm hand on his shoulder, effectively keeping him in place. 

 

“Roman, do you enjoy being around your family?” His voice isn’t stern, but his tone suggest that he already knows the answer, no matter how Roman answers. He can feel his stomach sink to his feet as he struggles to keep a smile on his face. 

 

But, it only lasts a second until the words slip out of his mouth, “Yes, of course I do!” 

 

Logan removes his hand and leans back, his face impassive and damn it, he’s so hard to read and Roman just wants to know if he believes him. Most people do, and for those who don’t, he can deflect them, if he could just convince him-

 

“Alright,” His voice is softer this time, interrupting his thoughts, “Have a nice night, Roman. Stay safe,” He adds on as Roman leaves the car, and he smiles and waves. For a while, he just stands there, watching him drive off before letting out a big breath once Logan turns the corner and he can’t see him anymore. 

 

* * *

 

Roman lied to him. 

 

* * *

 

Truth be told, later that night, Roman sat on his bed, staring at his costume. He wants to see Shadows, wanting to make sure that whatever happened earlier that day didn’t hurt him, but Logan’s question rings around in his head. It bounces around, and he can’t help the thoughts of how he would have told him the truth. But the truth would have caused so much trouble, and he knows that despite what he’s been told, multiple times, it’s not worth it. Especially now, with Shadows on the line. Shadows is the one who needs help, not him. 

 

With a deep breath that’s shakier than he likes, he starts to dress into his costume, finding the routine calming. It was cheap, but he had brought it up to Mrs. Ludwig and told her it was for some faux sparring thing that his theater was doing, and then, just to be sure, he relinquished it to Talyn. Who, in all their costume knowledge and glory, modified it to be just as good, if not better, than Shadows. But it also meant that he had to quickly get used to going slow for dressing up. 

 

The guards on his elbows and wrists were thick and bulky, despite being hidden underneath the shirt. The same goes for his pants, which had been ripped up and sewn back together again by Talyn, who had scoffed at him while throwing the costume back to him. The guards around his knees were skinnier though, to allow for more movement, and he was eternally grateful to them for that. Parkouring and free running around the city is fun until you land on your face or butt for the umpteenth time. The rest of the outfit looked like a standard prince outfit-a white shirt that went up to his neck, the golden tassle thingies on his shoulder, and golden fasteners and cufflinks to keep it all together. It feels like it’s missing something, but he doesn’t know what, yet. 

 

Once he’s dressed, he turns off his lights and goes out his window, feeling his own power surge and crackle to life as he hops from his window and onto the responding fire escape. After today, he’s ready to kick some ass. 

 

Hours pass by, and Roman can’t even feel the various bruises that have blossomed on his skin. He just lets him throw a punch, get kicked, throws thugs into the dumpster and escorts ladies home. At some point, he even returns a lost dog to their owner, who tearily kiss both of his cheeks and saying something rapidly in french before he smiles and hops onto a building-

 

Only to be body slammed by someone else, making both him and the person grunt before rolling onto the rooftop. For a moment, he lays there, staring up at the night sky before getting up, wheezing slightly. He carefully takes a step forward, wincing slightly at the pain that blooms up his leg. Okay, definitely something he’ll need to ice. 

 

Then he looks up, and lets out a string of cuss words that would make a sailor proud. 

 

Shadows sits cross legged, smirking slightly before waving. 

 

* * *

 

This… isn’t exactly how he wanted this meeting to go with Princey. He had originally wanted to meet him before he leapt back down into his room, and have a normal and calm conversation. But, judging from the pain that he’s in and from the string of cursing, Princey is not happy. 

 

Then, like he’s read his mind, Princey stomps forward, and Virgil barely has any time to conjure up the shadows to stop him in his place, and he can see that against Roman’s body is his own red glow. He clenches his fist, clearly trying to hold himself back as he grits his teeth before speaking. 

 

“You… I can’t believe-why, ugh!” Roman throws his arms up, turning around and then facing him again. “You, Mr. I’m-Going-To-Freak-Out-My-Friend, have just put me through the worst two days of my entire life!” 

 

“I’m… sorry?” One of his clones say before Roman pushes it backwards, the clone disappearing into a small puff of smoke. He stomps towards him again and the darkness holding him back falls, and he pushes Virgil’s shoulder, which. Okay. Definitely angry. But, why?

 

“Sorry? That’s all you have to say?  _ Really? _ I can’t believe you, Shadows! After last night, I was worried about you all day, then lo and behold, you come back and tell me, hey, turns out I don’t have any powers! Like, sure, okay,  _ that doesn’t freak me out at all!  _ And then, that whole thing at the park with Logan and the damn snakes and then you do the weird swirly thing-”

 

“I can explain-”

 

“And then you disappear! Again!” He pushes him slightly again, and his voice breaks, and, oh. He’s crying. “I’ve been so worried about you and you just,” Roman sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. He’s never really made someone cry before out of worry, but it leaves him with a feeling that he doesn’t recognize that settles into his gut. It’s weird, and it’s awkward, and god, he’s sorry for making Princey worry about him. 

 

Virgil, very slowly, brings up his hand, and touches his hand lightly to his chin before bring it down in an arcing motion. He repeats this when confusion sets it on Princey’s face, then he snorts. 

 

“Knowing sign language would have been useful earlier,” He mutters, but a smile tugs at his face as they both sit down, staring at each other for a while. “You so owe me for covering your ass from my teachers, by the way.” 

 

Virgil lets outs a groan, and Roman laughs. “You could just come to the dance with me. It’s tomorrow night after all,” 

 

He hesitates. He wants to go, a part of him does, but earlier that day (which honestly felt like a lifetime ago) he knew he wasn’t going to. But then he thinks of Thomas, and how Thomas should feel like an actual kid, and he sighs through his nose. He hates crowds, he hates loud music and he hates being that close to so many people. But...

 

Virgil nods, and Roman lets out a small sound of joy before engulfing him in a hug that he reluctantly returns. 

 

God, he hopes he doesn’t regret this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Halloween dance! Also, I will try to keep this updated more frequently, it's just that my SAD (seasonal affective disorder) got worse this year, and some shit happened but it's all good ＼（＾０＾）ノ
> 
> O JEEZ I didn't realize this hit over 1k hits??? what the heck thank you guys so much! I post other things to tumblr as well, so go follow me there! uwu [logan-sanders-rambles](https://logan-sanders-rambles.tumblr.com/)


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